'."-fi-'rh  h'fn  blade  and  sends  it  straight  at  the 
bared  and  6/v//r////  llnmi  before  him."—  [See  p.  281.] 


BETWEEN  THE  LINES 


31  Storg  of  tl)e 


BY 
CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING,  U.  S.  A. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  A  WAR-TIME  WOOING  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   FRANKLIN    SQUARE 
1889 


Copyright, 


by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rig/tit  referred. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  HIS   PRACTISED   HAND  WHIRLS    HIS   BLADE   AND 

SENDS    IT     STRAIGHT    AT     THE    BARED     AND 

BRAWNY   THROAT   BEFORE   HIM"      ....  Frontispiece. 

"  SHADING  HER  EYES  WITH  HER  HAND,  A  YOUNG 

GIRL  STOOD" Facing  page      2 

"  LIEUTENANT  KEARNY  HAS  LEAPED  FROM  HIS 

STEED  AND  IS  STANDING  OVER  HIM".  .  .  "  38 

"  TWO  HORSEMEN  RODE  LIKE  SHADOWY  SPEC 
TRES  BETWEEN  HIM  AND  THE  STARS  OF 
THE  NORTHERN  SKY" 48 

"  HALF  -  WAY  DOWN  THE  STAIRS  THE  TALL, 

FEEBLE  SOLDIER  HAD  STOPPED".  ...  "  84 

"  THERE,     BOWING,     SMILING,     SCRAPING,     STOOD 

OLD    NELSE  " "  104 

"FALCONEB  SPRANG  UP  AND  KEENLY  SCRUTI 
NIZED  THE  MISTY  LINE  OF  ROAD"  ...  "  110 

"  THE  NEXT  INSTANT  A  TALL  FIGURE  BURST 
THROUGH  THE  HEDGE  CLOSE  BY  HER  SIDE 
AND  STOOD  SILENTLY  BEFORE  HER "  .  „  .  "  1 64 


912894 


IV  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"AS  FOR  THE  STRANGER  HIMSELF,  HE  BENT 
OVER  THE  FLAMES,  TOTALLY  INDIFFERENT 
TO  THEIR  SCRUTINY  OF  HIS  PAPERS,  AND 
SEEMINGLY  INTENT  ONLY  ON  TOASTING  HIS 

HANDS" Facing  page  202 

"WHEN  THE  ADJUTANT  RETURNED  AT  THE  AP 
POINTED  TIME  HE  FOUND  THE  VIRGINIAN 
SEATED  AT  A  LITTLE  WOODEN  TABLE"  .  .  "  240 


BETWEEN  THE  LINES. 


I. 

SHADING  her  eyes  with  a  slender  white  hand,  a  young 
girl  stood  gazing  eastward  over  a  broad  and  beautiful 
landscape.  The  sun  was  fast  sinking  behind  the  wood 
ed  heights  at  her  back,  and  throwing  long  shadows 
over  the  green  carpet  of  the  lawn.  It  was  a  picturesque 
old  place,  that  Virginia  homestead.  The  house  was 
large,  two  storied,  with  broad  central  hallway  and  heavy 
wings  ;  dull  red  brick  showing  here  and  there  through 
the  thick  veil  of  vines  ;  a  wide  and  sheltered  piazza 
with  white  wooden  railing  and  chubby  balusters;  a 
broad  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  the  circular  drive 
way,  and  flanked  by  white  buttresses  ornamented  with 
big  florid  vases  of  the  same  material  and  ponderous 
pattern  as  the  sturdy  little  squat  balusters  that  sup 
ported  the  railing.  No  plants  or  flowers  blooming  in 
the  vases  to-day,  and  this  not  the  only  evidence  of  a 
neglect  that  was  perhaps  inevitable.  The  drive  itself 
was  furrowed  here  and  there  with  gullies  made  by  re 
cent  rains.  The  line  of  demarcation  between  flower 
bed  and  lawn  had  long  since  become  blurred  in  the 
encroachments  of  the  thick  grass  or  swifter  creeping 
plants.  Poultry,  too,  had  taken  advantage  of  the  re- 
1 


.TI*E    LINES. 


laxation  of  domestic  .discipline/apd  were  making  them- 
selves-at  l;ora.e- ;  "tjie'be^s  ".dti sting"  in  various  concavi 
ties  of  the  roadway,  scooped  out,  unrebuked,  by  their 
busy  claws,  while  two  or  three  blear-eyed  chanticleers 
were  paying  court  in  grandiose  style,  as  though  con 
scious  of  the  fact  that,  as  natives  of  Virginia,  a  degree 
of  dignity  and  suavity  of  mien  must  be  observed  which 
should  distinguish  them  from  the  "  dunghills  "  of  com 
monwealths  less  favored.  The  big  gate  at  the  front 
hung  heavily  on  its  rusting  hinges,  and  no  sign  of 
wheel  track  marked  the  drive.  The  fence,  too,  that 
showed  here  and  there  through  the  hedge  of  rose 
bushes,  was  lacking  a  paling  in  more  places  than  one, 
and  the  old  Newfoundland,  that  had  just  come  lazily 
in  from  a  scout  in  the  red  roadway  beyond,  had  availed 
himself  of  one  of  these  openings  in  preference  to  the 
broader  one  where  the  path  led  through  the  gateway. 
But  the  trees  were  beautiful  in  their  graceful  shape 
and  luxuriant  foliage;  the  air  was  soft  and  still  and 
clear;  the  sunshine  warm  and  radiant,  and  the  view 
from  the  piazza  one  that  no  man  could  look  upon  and 
forget.  The  old  house  stood  on  the  eastern  slope  of  a 
range  of  heavily  wooded  heights.  Eastward  the  woods 
and  fields  fell  away  almost  abruptly  for  a  hundred 
yards  or  so,  and  then,  like  the  falda  of  the  western 
Sierras,  glided  into  almost  imperceptible  gradations  as 
they  joined  the  general  contours  of  the  surface  that 
stretched  in  alternate  field  and  forest  until  bounded  by 
the  distant  heights  along  the  horizon.  All  across  this 
twenty-mile-wide  valley  the  shadows  of  the  silvery 
clouds  were  slowly  sailing.  Northward  it  narrowed, 


" Shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  a  young  girl  stood.' 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  3 

and  was  flanked  by  bolder  heights  and  sharper  curves. 
The  woods  were  darker  too,  and  the  little  farmhouses 
peeping  out  here  and  there  in  the  sunshine  were 
brighter  by  contrast.  Southward,  three  or  four  miles 
away,  was  a  dusty  high-road,  with  what  looked  like  a 
railway  embankment  alongside,  leading  through  open 
country  to  a  little  patch  of  houses  perhaps  eight  or 
nine  miles  to  the  southeast.  There  it  joined  another 
high-road,  broad  and  dusty  too,  for  great  clouds  of 
reddish  -  tinted  mist  were  rising  high  and  betraying 
its  line  of  direction  even  after  it  was  lost  in  the  thick 
woods  beyond  the  hamlet. 

It  seemed  to  bear  straight  away  over  intervening 
swell  and  shallow,  dipping  here  and  there  into  the 
bed  of  some  little  stream,  until  it  reached  the  upland 
slope  far  to  the  east,  and  found  its  terminus  in  the 
clump  of  white  houses  that  glistened  in  the  sunshine 
on  the  distant  heights  of  Centreville.  The  white, 
gleaming  dots  upon  the  dark  background  were  plainly 
visible  to  the  naked  eye  here  at  Hopeville. 

Beyond  the  first  hamlet  the  ground  began  to  rise 
towards  the  southeast,  and  a  great  bare  plain  could  be 
dimly  seen  through  rifts  in  the  dust  clouds  that  rose 
from  the  highway — a  plain  that  was  overhung  by  a 
pall  of  smoke  rising  from  the  unseen  fires  of  a  recent 
conflagration. 

All  the  night  before  the  skies  had  been  lurid  with 
the  glare  far  over  there  above  Manassas,  and  there  had 
been  excitement  and  anxiety  and  enthusiasm — all  com 
mingled — at  the  old  homestead.  No  one  slept,  for 
every  little  while  there  came  hoof-beats  along  the 


4  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

road  and  animated  voices,  and  frequently  the  riders 
had  turned  in  at  the  open  gateway,  thrown  themselves 
from  their  panting  steeds,  exchanged  a  few  jubilant 
words  with  the  venerable  master  of  the  house,  par 
taken  of  the  unfailing  Virginia  hospitality,  and  then, 
remounting,  had  pushed  on  through  the  gloom.  Soon 
after  sunrise  other  visitors  had  come,  but  these  the  old 
man  would  not  see  ;  and  the  tall  lieutenant  in  the 
uniform  of  the  Union  cavalry  who  spurred  so  con 
fidently  into  the  yard,  rode  laughing  away  to  join  his 
men  who  had  halted  without  the  hedge,  and  the  only 
one  with  whom  he  had  exchanged  a  word  was  the 
young  girl  herself.  At  her  he  looked  back  more  than 
once  as  his  escort  went  clattering  away,  and  finally  he 
bared  his  handsome  head  and  bowed  low  over  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle — unmistakably  to  her. 

Brief  indeed  was  the  visit  of  this  little  scouting 
party  of  blue  jackets,  but  all  the  rest  of  the  morning 
she  could  see  the  dust  clouds  rising  along  the  distant 
pike,  and  long  lines  of  cavalry  skirmishers  pushing  up 
towards  the  great  gap  four  miles  down  the  range. 
Then  there  had  been  the  booming  of  guns  at  Thoro'- 
fare,  and  the  old  man's  battered  telescope  had  told 
them  that  the  fluttering  guidons  far  to  the  south  were 
falling  back  before  the  cannon,  and  then  that  those  were 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  waving  above  the  battalions  of 
dark  infantry  deploying  to  the  support  of  the  troop 
ers  ;  and  a  neighbor  galloping  by  shouted  that  the 
Yanks  were  "tryin'  to  shet  off  Longstreet.  Might's 
well  try  to  squelch  hell."  And  then  there  came  the 
sound  of  a  bugle  close  at  hand,  and  the  negroes,  with 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  5 

bulging  eyes,  ran  in  to  say  the  mountain  road  was  just 
swarming  with  soldiers  ;  and  surely  enough  the  open 
fields  a  mile  to  the  southeast  were  soon  alive  with 
horsemen  and  long  gray  lines  pushing  steadily  down 
upon  the  distant  ranks  of  blue  ;  and  then  there  had 
been  an  hour  of  wild  jubilee  on  the  piazza,  as  the  Un 
ion  forces  were  seen  slowly  gathering  in  their  clouds 
of  skirmishers  and  slipping  out  from  the  threatened 
envelopment  of  their  right  flank.  Slowly  and  stub 
bornly  they  were  retiring — but  retiring  beyond  all 
question — towards  the  little  hamlet  on  the  Warrenton 
pike,  and  as  they  went,  so  advanced  and  developed 
the  long  dusky  lines  under  the  red  field  and  blue  St. 
Andrew's  cross.  When  five  o'clock  came  the  Union 
division,  with  its  cavalry  accompaniment,  was  far  over 
towards  the  southeast ;  no  more  gray  columns  were 
striding  out  from  Hopeville  Pass  ;  the  brigades  that 
threatened  the  Union  flank  had  halted,  gone  into 
bivouac,  and  were  building  little  fires  down  in  the 
timber  a  mile  or  so  away,  while  a  whole  division 
tramped  out  into  the  open  fields  in  front  of  Thoro'fare, 
and  the  batteries  trotted  down  and  took  their  places 
in  the  brigade  intervals  as  line  of  battle  was  reformed. 
Then  the  old  man  shut  his  telescope  with  a  snap,  and 
worn  out  with  long  hours  of  excitement  and  vigil, 
possibly,  too,  slightly  overcome  by  the  combined  ef 
fects  of  enthusiasm  and  apple-jack,  he  was  easily  per 
suaded  to  go  to  his  room  for  a  sleep. 

But  his  daughter  remained  at  her  post  on  the  piazza. 
She  would  not  go  —  for  anything.  The  guns  had 
ceased  their  thunder  close  at  hand,  but  now,  far  over 


6  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

to  the  eastward,  the  dull  booming  of  a  heavier  cannon 
ade  burst  upon  the  ear,  and,  levelling  the  glass  and 
fixing  it  upon  the  dark  woods  that  lay  between  the 
hamlet  on  the  Warrenton  pike  and  those  distant 
heights  of  Centreville,  the  girl  could  see  heavy  clouds 
of  mingled  dust  and  battle  -  smoke  rising  above  the 
trees.  She  shuddered  slightly  as  she  turned  away  and 
spoke  to  a  young  woman — a  quadroon — who  stood  si 
lently  by  :  "  They  are  fighting  over  there,  beyond 
Gainesville,  terribly,  Hannah.  It  must  be  Stonewall 
Jackson  ;  and  yet  they  all  said  last  night  he  was  at 
Manassas,  and  had  captured  everything  there." 

"  I  know  that,  Miss  Lucy,"  was  the  answer,  spoken 
with  a  trace  of  the  negro  intonation  and  dialect ; 
"but  all  day  long  the  Federals  have  been  marching 
through  Gainesville.  Young  Marse  Anderson  rode 
by  when  you  were  with  the  judge  in-doors;  he  said 
there  was  thousands  and  thousands  of  them,  and  they 
was  going  to  try  and  surround  him  before  General 
Lee  could  get  there  to  help  him.  Where  is  Marse 
Henry  now,  Miss  Lucy  ?" 

"  God  knows  !  With  Stuart  somewhere.  He  can 
not  be  far  away,  and  yet  he  could  not  be  near  without 
coming  to  see  us.  We  have  not  set  eyes  on  him  since 
last  March.  Nothing  but  those  hateful  Yankee  uni 
forms  have  I  seen  in  the  road  until  this  blessed  day. 
Thank  God  for  another  look  at  the  gray !  Thank 
God!"  she  repeated,  fervently,  as  she  gazed  with  moist 
ening  eyes  at  the  fluttering  patches  of  color  down  in 
the  distant  fields  where  here  and  there  the  St.  Andrew's 
cross  waved  above  some  battalion  forming  line.  The 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  7 

sun  had  sunk  behind  the  ridge;  twilight  was  settling 
down  upon  the  valley;  the  little  bivouac  fires  glim 
mered  here  and  there  in  the  timber,  and  far  away  over 
the  intervening  lowlands,  far  over  among  the  dense 
woods  to  the  north  of  Manassas,  there  still  rumbled 
the  thunder  of  those  sullen  guns,  and  one  broad  clear 
ing,  faintly  discernible  through  the  glass,  was  lighted 
by  the  lurid  flash  and  glare  of  the  incessant  volley  ings 
of  battling  hosts.  It  was  the  evening  of  the  28th  of 
August,  1862,  and  the  opening  chorus  of  second  Bull 
Run. 

Presently  the  now  familiar  sound  of  hoof-beats  rap 
idly  advancing  was  heard  upon  the  road  without,  and 
two  horsemen  in  gray  uniform  came  at  the  gallop  to 
the  gateway.  The  man  in  front — tall,  dark,  slenderly 
and  gracefully  m-ade — threw  his  reins  to  his  follower 
as  he  dismounted,  and  then  walked,  with  clinking  spurs 
and  trailing  scabbard,  straight  across  the  lawn  to  the 
house,  an  eager  light  in  his  eyes  as  he  caught  sight  of 
the  girl  standing  there  half  hidden  by  the  vines.  She, 
on  the  contrary,  drew  back  slightly,  and  the  sweet  face 
that  had  flushed  with  hope  and  anticipation  as  the 
horsemen  came  in  sight  now  paled  a  little  as  she  recog 
nized  the  arriving  soldier. 

He  raised  his  broad-brimmed  slouch  hat  as  he  sprang 
up  the  steps,  and  held  forth  his  right  hand.  His  uni 
form  of  gray  with  its  sleeve-knots  of  gold  was  new 
and  rich;  his  sash  and  gauntlets  and  belts  and  riding- 
boots  all  bespoke  the  "  dandy  "  soldier;  his  face  was 
oval,  clear  cut,  and  handsome;  his  eyes  and  hair  dark; 
he  was  a  most  presentable  fellow  in  every  sense  of  the 


8  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

word,  and  the  dark  eyes  had  a  gleam  of  gentle  re 
proach  in  them  as  he  said : 

"  Have  you  no  word  of  welcome  for  me,  Lucy  ?" 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Captain  Falconer,"  she  an 
swered,  "  and  father  will  be  overjoyed.  You  bring  us 
news  of  Henry?"  she  asked,  eagerly,  the  soft  violet 
eyes  searching  his  face  for  the  first  time  in  one  quick, 
sweeping  glance,  then  falling  again  before  the  ardent 
gaze  in  his. 

"Not  very  late,  I  fear.  I  have  not  seen  him  since 
the  night  before  Stuart's  dash  on  Catlett's  Station — 
wasn't  it  glorious  ? — but  I've  heard  of  him,  only  yes 
terday.  He  was  carrying  despatches  'cross  country 
to  Longstreet,  and  the  chances  are  he  is  with  him  or 
General  Lee  over  at  Salem  or  White  Plains  this  very 
evening,  and  you'll  see  him  early  in  the  morning.  This 
is  only  our  advance.  But  didn't  we  drive  that  Yankee 
division  back  in  style?  You  must  have  seen  it  all 
from  here.  That  is  " — and  he  turned  and  looked  into 
the  gathering  darkness  from  the  south  end  of  the 
piazza — "all  except  the  fight  close  in  by  Thoro'fare 
Gap.  My  squadron  came  within  an  ace  of  getting 
two  of  their  guns,  and  we  did  capture  two  prisoners — 
one  of  them  a  cavalry  officer." 

"What  was  he  like?"  she  asked,  with  interest. 
"There  was  one  here  this  morning,  scouting;  he 
said—" 

"  Yes,  and  he  was  just  as  handsome  as  he  could  be, 
Captain  Falconer,"  interposed  the  quadroon  girl,  show 
ing  her  white  teeth. 

It  was  evident  that  Hannah  had  long  been  a  priv- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  9 

ileged  character  at  the  homestead,  and  also  evident 
that  the  captain  totally  disapproved  of  her  remarks. 
He  ignored  her  entirely. 

"This  young  fellow  seems  to  be  one  of  Buford's 
cavalry.  I  hardly  fancy  he  is  the  man  to  be  scouting 
these  roads  by  himself.  It  takes  nerve  and  pluck  to 
separate  one's  self  from  the  main  column  in  these 
days.  You  never  know  what  you  may  meet  in  this 
part  of  Virginia."  And  it  would  seem  as  though  the 
young  captain  desired  her  to  appreciate  the  risk  he 
ran  in  coming  to  see  her.  "I  suppose  the  country 
has  been  full  of  Yanks  for  months  past." 

"  Ever  since  you  fell  back  from  Manassas  last  March; 
but  they  rarely  come  up  here.  We  are  miles  off  the 
beaten  tracks,  and  have  hardly  been  disturbed  at  all. 
Captain  Falconer,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  I  know  you 
want  to  see  father,  but  he  is  sleeping  now.  He  was 
awake  all  last  night,  for  of  course  we  were  wild  with 
delight  and  excitement  at  seeing  our  soldiers  once 
more,  and  hearing  of  Jackson's  splendid  march.  Do 
come  in  and  let  me  offer  you  some  refreshment,  and 
bid  your  orderly  take  the  horses  around  to  the  barn. 
I  think  old  Nelse  has  still  a  little  forage  hidden  away, 
though  our  horses  are  gone.  Then  you  shall  tell  me 
all  about  what  has  been  going  on.  I  am  wild  to  know. 
See  how  dark  it  is  growing,  and  yet  they  are  still  fight 
ing  over  yonder.  God  be  with  us  !" 

"  Amen  to  that !  but  I'm  anxious,  Jackson  is  all 
alone  in  there  somewhere  with  only  some  twenty-five 
thousand  men,  and  the  Yanks  must  have  a  hundred 
thousand  all  around  him  by  this  time.  I  begged  the 


10  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

general  to  let  me  take  my  squadron  and  ride  over 
there  and  find  out  how  things  were  going,  but  he  re 
fused.  He  said  the  country  was  full  of  Yankee  cav 
alry,  but  I  warrant  we  could  have  got  through.  Tell 
me  about  the  party  here  this  morning.  Did  they  at 
tempt  any  insolence?"  and  he  twirled  his  mustache 
fiercely. 

"Not  at  all.  Only  this  officer  entered  the  gate. 
He  was  very  polite,  and  merely  asked  if  this  was 
Judge  Armistead's,  and  on  my  saying  yes,  he  asked 
to  see  him.  Father  declined,  and  sent  word  to  him 
that  he  could  conceive  of  no  possible  reason  why  he 
should  request  an  interview.  Hannah  brought  the  re 
ply,  and  also  a  mandate  that  I  should  come  in  at  once, 
for  meantime  we  had  entered  into  conversation." 

"I  thought  you  were  a  loyal  Virginia  girl,  and  hated 
a  Yankee." 

"  I  am  loyal  to  my  state  and  to  my  people,  Captain 
Falconer,  as  you  very  well  know,"  answered  Miss 
Armistead,  with  flashing  eyes.  "His  remarks  were 
merely  complimentary  to  the  beauty  of  the  neighbor 
hood  in  general,  and  to  old  Hector  there  in  particular. 
He  seemed  to  admire  the  dog  more  than  anything 
about  the  place." 

"  Even  its  fair  young  mistress  ?" 

"Even  its  young  mistress,"  she  answered,  flushing 
with  evident  vexation  at  the  tone  of  the  inquiry. 

"And  did  he  introduce  himself?  I  take  it  for 
granted  he  made  some  overtures." 

"He  did.  He  begged  pardon  for  intruding;  said 
his  orders  required  him  to  see  if  the  family  were  still 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  11 

residing  here,  as  it  was  known  that  this  was  the  home 
of  Captain  Henry  Armistead,  of  the  — th  Virginia 
Cavalry.  I  replied  that  I  was  proud  to  say  it  was ; 
and  then  he  startled  me  by  saying  that  he  had  known 
him  well  three  years  before,  and  gave  his  name — Lieu 
tenant  Kearny,  of  the  New  Jersey  Cavalry.  I  was  so 
surprised  at  what  he  told  me  of  having  known  Henry 
that  I  couldn't  say  another  word.  Then  he  rode 
away." 

Falconer's  eyes  gleamed  with  an  angry  light.  "I 
know  well  who  he  is.  They  were  at  college  and  in 
the  same  class,  and  it  was  that  same  Kearny  who  rode 
through  our  lines  at  Cedar  Mountain  two  weeks  ago 
and  carried  off  Frank  Pegram  and  Eustis  as  prisoners. 
By  Heaven  !  my  men  would  give  their  souls  to  catch 
him,  and  if  I  run  across  him  in  this  campaign  'twill  be 
his  last  ride  in  Virginia.  Why,  Lucy,  he  was  your 
brother's  guest  a  week  at  Richmond  only  two  winters 
ago,  and  now  he  is  an  invader  of  the  state  whose  hos 
pitality  he  accepted.  Which  way  did  they  go  ?" 

"Down  that  very  road;  but  he  turned  off  eastward 
at  the  lane.  He  said  he  must  ride  in  search  of  Gen 
eral  McDowell.  That  was  one  of  his  divisions  down 
there  at  the  gap." 

"  Yes — Rickett's  division,  the  prisoners  say.  But  if 
Mr.  Kearny  cut  'cross  country  eastward,  I  don't  envy 
him  his  reception.  He  must  have  run  slap  in  among 
Jackson's  people,  and  if  so,  Libby  will  get  him,  not  I." 

Just  then  there  came  other  hoof -beats,  and  a  pant 
ing  steed  galloped  up  the  wood  road  and  into  the  open 
gate.  Another  moment,  and  a  tall  young  officer, 


12  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

also  in  Confederate  gray,  leaped  from  the  saddle  and 
bounded  lightly  up  the  steps.  Miss  Armistead  start 
ed  forward  ;  then  with  a  joyous,  half-articulate  cry 
threw  herself  into  the  stranger's  arms.  For  a  mo 
ment  they  were  clasped  in  each  other's  embrace  ;  he 
kissing  her  rippling  hair  and  smooth  white  forehead  ; 
she  sobbing  with  excitement,  relief,  and  gladness  on 
his  breast.  At  last,  as  she  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to 
look  at  him,  he  inquired,  "  How's  father  ?" 

"Well;  sleeping  just  now,  but  he'll  be  wild  to  see 
you,  Harry,"  she  sobbed,  still  clinging  to  him.  "  Now 
let  me  go.  I'll  run  and  wake  him." 

Then  the  tall,  dark  soldier  stepped  forward  from 
the  shadows,  holding  forth  his  hand.  "Welcome 
home,  Armistead,"  he  said. 

The  younger  man  started  slightly,  then,  recovering 
himself,  replied,  in  a  tone  that  utterly  lacked  cordiality, 

"  Oh  !  is  that  you,  Falconer  ?  I  hardly  thought  to 
see  you  here.'* 


II. 

LIEUTENANT  KEAKNY  had  indeed  turned  eastward 
on  reaching  the  lane  indicated  by  Miss  Armistead,  but 
it  was  early  in  the  morning,  and  before  he  had  marched 
more  than  a  mile  in  that  direction  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  sight  of  distant  troops  of  horse  far 
down  towards  the  railway.  It  was  a  matter  of  but  a 
moment's  work  for  his  escort  to  tear  down  a  rail-fence 
or  two  and  enable  the  party  to  make  a  short-cut  south 
ward  across  the  intervening  fields.  In  half  an  hour 
the  lieutenant  was  in  presence  of  the  cavalry  com 
mander,  and  making  his  report;  no  Confederate  troops 
were  in  sight  from  Hopeville  Gap,  but  heavy  clouds 
of  dust  were  rising  from  the  road  west  of  Thoro'fare, 
and  it  was  evident  that  strong  forces  were  advancing 
from  the  direction  of  Salem  and  White  Plains.  The 
general  listened  attentively,  was  silent  a  moment,  and 
then  replied: 

"That  accords  with  the  reports  from  our  advance. 
We  have  a  regiment  and  some  light  guns  at  the  Gap 
already,  but  can  hardly  hold  it  against  Longstreet's 
whole  corps.  Which  way  were  you  going,  sir  ?" 

"  Back  to  find  General  McDowell.  He  sent  me  up 
from  Buckland  Mills  last  night.  I  reported  to  your 
adjutant-general  as  I  passed  the  brigade,  sir." 


14  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  He  must  be  somewhere  about  Gainesville  now,  and 
I  understand  that  the  whole  army  is  directed  to  con 
centrate  on  the  Junction.  Jackson  was  there  last 
night,  as  I  suppose  you  know.  Look  yonder  !"  And 
General  Buford  turned  in  his  saddle  and  pointed  off 
to  the  southeast,  where  dense  clouds  of  black  smoke 
were  rising  high  in  air  above  the  well-known  plateau. 
"  Have  your  men  had  coffee,  or  anything  to  eat  ?" 

"  Nothing  since  supper  last  evening,  general." 

"  Well,  halt  here  awhile.  Your  own  regiment  is 
deployed  out  there  at  the  front — just  at  the  Gap — but 
my  people  here  will  give  you  all  the  coffee  you  want. 
There  is  no  use  in  riding  after  General  McDowell  yet. 
Wait  an  hour  or  so  and  you'll  have  something  to  tell 
him." 

Gladly  enough  Lieutenant  Kearny  led  his  little  party 
into  a  grove  near  the  road-side,  and  gave  the  order  to 
dismount  and  unsaddle.  Meantime  the  cavalry  com 
mander  with  his  staff  pushed  on  towards  the  dark  pass 
through  the  rugged  heights  to  the  west.  Already  a 
brisk  and  rapid  fire  of  small-arms  could  be  heard  ring 
ing  among  the  rocks.  Then,  as  the  rattle  of  carbine 
and  rifle  continued  and  increased,  the  cavalry  trumpets 
along  the  pike  could  be  heard  repeating  some  signal 
from  the  head  of  the  column,  and  the  dust-covered 
squadrons  ambling  placidly  by  took  up  a  jingling  trot, 
and  presently  the  rearmost  went  obliquely  off  the  road 
and  through  the  open  fields  to  the  south.  Then  the 
hoarser  notes  of  a  battery  bugle  were  heard  blaring 
from  the  rocky  hill-sides,  and  the  bang,  bang  of  the 
three-inch  rifles  and  the  shriek  of  flying  shells  were 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  15 

added  to  the  clamor.  Kearny's  eyes  kindled  at  the 
sound. 

"  Old  Buford's  right !"  he  said  to  a  staff-officer  who 
had  dismounted  to  tighten  his  saddle-girth.  "There 
will  be  something  to  tell  McDowell,  and  in  less  than 
an  hour,  too.  Hurry  up  with  your  breakfast,  men." 

In  much  less  than  an  hour  an  aide-de-camp  came 
galloping  down  the  road  and  reined  in  at  sight  of 
the  little  party  of  troopers  already  "  saddled  up  "  and 
standing  at  their  horses'  heads,  while  their  chargers 
were  busily  cropping  at  the  scant  herbage. 

"  Is  this  Lieutenant  Kearny  ?"  asked  the  aide. 

"  Ay,  ay.     What's  wanted  ?" 

"  General  Buford  wishes  you  to  ride  at  once  to  Gen 
eral  McDowell,  and  tell  him  that  Longstreet's  whole 
corps  is  at  the  Gap  and  deploying  to  attack.  You 
can  leave  your  escort  here  to  rejoin  their  regiment, 
but  take  an  orderly  with  you.  The  road  is  open  back 
of  you,  and  Stuart  nowhere  near.  That  is,  so  far  as 
we  know,"  and  the  aide-de-camp  grinned. 

"  I  understand,"  was  Kearny's  quiet  answer.  "  But 
as  I  left  Hopewell  this  morning  I  could  see  cavalry 
crossing  the  open  fields  over  towards  Sudley  Springs, 
north  of  the  pike.  I  counted  at  least  three  regiments 
through  my  glass.  Who  were  they  ?" 

"None  of  ours,  you  can  bet  —  and  Stuart  likely 
enough.  He  was  at  Manassas  last  evening.  You'll 
have  to  keep  your  eye  peeled,  young  man.  Good-day 
to  you.  Lord  !  hear  those  guns  !  If  we  had  Mc 
Dowell's  whole  corps  here  I  doubt  if  we  could  hold 
those  f  ellows.  They  know  every  rabbit  track  in  those 


16  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

hills,  confound  them  !"  And  with  this  outspoken  trib 
ute  to  the  efficiency  of  the  foe  the  aide  clapped  heels 
to  his  horse's  flanks  and  went  sputtering  back  to  the 
front. 

Directing  the  sergeant  in  command  of  the  little  de 
tachment  to  report  forthwith  to  the  adjutant  of  the 
regiment  with  the  entire  party,  Lieutenant  Kearny 
mounted  and  trotted  off  towards  the  distant  hamlet  of 
Gainesville.  His  own  horse  was  in  prime  condition,  a 
capital,  mettlesome  fellow,  and  he  himself  was  an  ac 
complished  horseman.  The  "mount "  of  his  escort,  on 
the  contrary,  was  jaded  from  the  fortnight  of  hard 
marching,  scouting,  and  skirmishing  that  had  followed 
Cedar  Mountain,  and  when  he  came  to  look  them  over 
he  did  not  see  one  that  seemed  fit  for  a  rapid  ride.  He 
started,  therefore,  on  his  mission  all  alone. 

For  the  first  mile  he  met  the  inevitable  stragglers 
from  the  command,  some  of  them  hastening  forward 
to  rejoin  their  squadrons,  others  lounging  by  the  road 
side  in  evident  disinclination  to  march  to  the  sound  of 
the  guns.  Every  moment  the  cannonade  at  the  Gap 
seemed  to  increase  in  fierceness;  but  little  by  little,  as 
he  rode  southeastward,  the  wind  carried  the  sound 
away  from  him,  and  by  the  time  he  caught  sight  of 
the  roofs  of  Gainesville  the  roar  had  died  into  a  faint 
and  almost  inaudible  rumble.  Far  down  to  the  south, 
where  lay  the  broad  turnpike  to  Warrenton,  he  could 
see  the  dust  clouds  mounting  high  in  the  sultry  air,  tell 
ing  of  marching  columns  that  he  knew  to  be  the  Union 
forces  hastening  eastward  to  carry  out  Pope's  jubilant 
and  hopeful  order  to  "  bag  the  entire  crowd."  Daring 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  17 

and  wellnigb  reckless  as  Jackson  had  ever  been,  never 
yet  had  he  essayed  so  perilous  a  move  as  this,  by  which 
he  had  marched  entirely  around  the  right  and  rear  of 
the  Union  army,  and  swept  down  upon  their  trains  and 
supplies  at  Manassas.  Now,  separated  a  full  day's 
march  from  Lee  and  Longstreet,  he  was  known  to  be 
lurking  somewhere  among  the  dense  forests  north  of 
the  Junction,  and  Pope  had  launched  Sigel,  McDowell, 
Heintzelman,  Reno,  Phil  Kearny,  and  Porter  to  hem 
him  in,  head  him  off,  and  overwhelm  him  before  relief 
could  possibly  come.  Just  bow  many  men  he  had,  no 
one  within  the  Union  lines  could  tell.  Anywhere 
from  thirty  to  sixty  thousand  was  the  estimate,  and 
the  Union  force  was  big  enough  to  handle  either 
number.  Young  Kearny's  heart  beat  high  with  hope 
as  he  trotted  rapidly  eastward.  He  was  an  ardent 
patriot,  an  enthusiastic  soldier,  a  born  cavalryman; 
and  all  through  the  campaign  his  energy  and  enthusi 
asm  had  won  the  admiration  and  praise  of  his  superiors. 
Just  after  Cedar  Mountain,  while  in  command  of  a 
troop  out  on  picket  duty,  he  had  made  a  dash  on  a 
Confederate  outpost  while  it  was  occupied  by  a  recon 
noitring  party,  and  had  borne  off  two  distinguished 
young  Virginians  as  prisoners,  not  without  a  sharp 
fight  and  the  loss  of  three  of  his  own  men;  but  the 
exploit  had  made  him  famous  in  the  cavalry  brigade, 
and  Bayard  himself  had  ridden  down  to  shake  his 
hand  and  congratulate  him.  An  envied  man  was 
Kearny  from  that  day,  but  a  popular  one  withal,  for 
with  high  health,  high  spirits,  and  high  social  connec 
tions,  without  a  care  in  the  world,  he  was  also  a  gen- 
2 


18  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

erous  and  manly  comrade  whom  all  men  warmed  to, 
and  his  face  and  form  were  such  as  women  love  to 
look  upon. 

He  was  smiling  to  himself  as  he  rode  along,  and 
thinking  of  his  odd  adventure  of  the  early  morning. 
"  Only  fancy  my  meeting  Hal  Armistead's  sister  in 
such  a  way  !"  he  thought.  "  She  looked  hostile  enough 
to  freeze  a  man,  and  yet  how  sweetly  pretty.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  saw  a  lovelier  face.  Halloa  !  Who 
comes  here,  I  wonder  ?" 

Spurring  rapidly  towards  him,  his  horse  covered  with 
dashes  of  foam,  an  officer  came  riding  at  the  gallop, 
followed  by  a  couple  of  troopers.  As  soon  as  he 
sighted  Kearny  he  lay  back  in  the  saddle  and  pulled 
hard  at  the  reins,  gradually  bringing  his  charger  down 
to  a  walk,  and  then  signalling  that  he  wished  to  speak. 
Kearny  reined  in  as  they  came  together,  and  seeing 
the  silver  leaves  on  the  other's  shoulder-strap,  raised 
his  gauntlet  in  salute. 

"  Where  are  you  from,  sir,  and  where  are  you  go 
ing?"  was  the  sharp  question. 

"From  General  Buford,  with  a  message  for  Gen 
eral  McDowell." 

"  Look  well  to  your  left,  then,  as  you  go.  Rebel 
cavalry  are  in  those  woods  off  yonder.  What  new8 
from  the  Gap  !  Is  Longstreet  there  ?" 

"  In  force,  sir — and  fighting  through  when  I  left." 

"  Then  you  cannot  get  to  the  general  too  soon.  I'll 
push  forward.  You  will  find  him  somewhere  about 
Gainesville  now,  and  take  my  advice — get  off  this  road 
and  go  through  the  fields  until  you  reach  the  Warren- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  19 

ton  pike  ;  then  turn  eastward.  It's  a  long  way  round, 
but  there's  danger  ahead  of  you.  Who  are  you,  may 
I  ask?" 

"  Lieutenant  Kearny,  sir — New  Jersey  cavalry." 

"  Oh !  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  my  lad.  I've  heard 
of  you  before.  Good-day  again.  I  must  hurry.  Don't 
forget  about  those  rebs  over  there  ;"  and  with  that 
the  field-officer  again  rode  on. 

Kearny  looked  about  him.  Off  to  the  south  all  the 
fields  were  open,  though  crossed  in  many  places  by 
the  inevitable  "  snake  "  or  rail  fence  that  still  remained 
in  those  sections  of  the  state  where  large  bodies  of 
troops  had  not  happened  to  camp.  Anywhere  within 
three  miles  of  a  martial  garrison,  however,  the  fences 
had  long  since  gone  as  fuel.  "  It  would  not  be  diffi 
cult  to  make  a  way  through  those  fields  and  fences," 
thought  Kearny,  "  but  even  when  I  reach  the  Warren- 
ton  pike  it  will  doubtless  be  crowded  with  wagons  and 
stragglers.  I'll  find  myself  miles  behind  McDowell, 
and  will  have  hard  work  to  push  through  the  crowd 
and  catch  him.  1ST o  !  I'll  risk  it  and  stick  to  the  road. 
It  all  looks  safe  enough  off  there  to  the  left,  and  the 
colonel  said  I  could  not  reach  McDowell  too  soon." 

So  communing  with  himself,  the  lieutenant  drew 
forth  his  watch,  noted  the  time — 8.45 — and,  with  one 
look  at  the  caps  of  his  revolvers,  he  pushed  ahead  at 
a  rapid  lope.  Off  to  the  eastward — his  left  front — 
the  ground  rose  and  fell  in  graceful  undulations,  open 
clearings  and  cultivated  fields,  with  here  and  there  a 
little  patch  of  forest.  Cavalry  could  be  hidden  among 
those  trees,  to  be  sure,  but  the  nearest  groves  seemed 


20  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

full  six  hundred  yards  away  from  the  high-road,  and 
with  that  much  start  no  horse  in  Virginia  could  catcli 
him  in  a  rush  'cross  country.  They  might  head  him 
off  the  beaten  track,  but  that  was  the  worst  he  antici 
pated.  Far  away  towards  Sudley  Springs,  through  the 
openings  among  the  trees,  he  twice  fancied  he  saw  lit 
tle  bodies  of  horse  ;  but  there  was  no  time  to  unsling 
his  glass  and  rein  in  and  look.  He  had  ridden  a  full 
mile  since  leaving  the  staff-officer  who  stopped  him, 
and  was  trotting  over  a  rise,  when,  down  in  the  shal 
low  valley  just  in  front,  and  not  five  hundred  yards 
away  to  the  left  of  the  road,  he  saw  a  sight  that  made 
his  heart  leap  up  in  his  throat.  A  little  knot  of  troop 
ers,  with  broad-brimmed  slouch  hats  and  uniforms  of 
dusty  gray,  were  watering  their  horses  at  a  pool  in 
the  brook  that  crossed  the  roadway  from  the  south. 
Another  minute  and  one  of  them  glanced  up  and  saw 
him.  Before  he  had  time  to  think,  the  whole  party, 
six  in  number,  had  clapped  spurs  to  their  horses  and 
came  dashing  down  upon  him.  Kearny  was  no  cow 
ard — he  had  showed  the  mettle  of  his  race  before  now 
— but  he  felt  his  nerves  quiver  and  his  heart  beat  like 
a  hammer  as  he  gave  one  quick  glance  around  him. 
It  was  possible  to  whirl  about  and  retreat  along  the 
road  until  once  more  he  found  himself  within  the  shel 
tering  lines  of  Buford's  cavalry  brigade  ;  he  might 
tear  down  the  topmost  rail  or  two  and  then  jump 
"  Ramapo  "  over  the  others,  but  both  courses  would 
take  him  miles  out  of  his  way,  and  the  message  to 
McDowell  would  be  delayed  or  abandoned  entirely. 
Devoted  soldier  that  he  was,  he  reasoned  with  the 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  21 

quickness  of  thought  that  that  would  never  do ;  then, 
setting  his  teeth  and  gripping  hie  revolver,  he  struck 
spurs  to  his  charger's  flanks,  and,  to  the  amaze  of  the 
attacking  party,  shot  straight  ahead  down  the  slope 
and  across  their  very  front.  Instantly  they  opened 
out,  those  who  were  farthest  to  the  east  veering  to  the 
left  in  wide  circle  so  as  to  strike  the  road  in  front  of 
him  and  head  him  off.  Kearny  bent  low  over  his 
horse's  neck  and  urged  him  to  his  utmost  speed,  and 
in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  pen  the  line,  despite  the 
yells  of  "  Halt,"  accompanied  by  whistling  pistol-balls 
and  a  scattering  volley  of  inelegant  epithets,  he  whirled 
beyond  range  of  those  who  had  headed  straight  for  the 
little  rise,  and  the  next  instant  was  leaping  the  brook 
down  in  the  shallow  flats  just  as  two  of  his  pursuers 
cleared  the  low  stone  wall  to  his  left  and  came  dash 
ing  into  the  road,  one  in  front,  the  other  behind  him. 
"  Halt !  halt !"  were  the  yells,  and  then  bang  !  bang  ! 
went  both  pistols,  but  with  no  apparent  effect  on 
either  horse  or  rider.  Bang  !  went  his  own  trusty 
Colt  as  he  flashed  by  the  venturesome  trooper  who 
had  leaped  in  front  of  him,  and  in  another  moment,  as 
he  raced  up  the  slope  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  brook 
and  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  he  could  see  that  his 
shot  had  taken  effect  in  the  trooper's  horse.  Already 
he  was  down  on  his  knees  and  his  rider  springing  off. 
Reaching  the  crest  of  the  gentle  rise,  Kearny  found 
himself  unpursued,  the  troopers  wisely  abstaining  from 
the  chase  of  such  a  runner  as  "  Ramapo  ;"  so  his  rider 
reined  him  in,  and,  stopping  a  moment,  shouted  back 
his  laughing  defiance  at  the  disconcerted  knot  of  foe- 


22  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

men  down  by  the  brook.  The  wounded  horse  had 
by  this  time  rolled -over  on  his  side,  and  his  late 
rider  was  bending  sadly  over  him.  They  looked  up 
a  moment  as  Kearny  halted  on  the  ridge,  full  five  hun 
dred  yards  away,  but  paid  no  further  attention  to  him. 
The  next  moment,  as  he  turned  to  resume  his  ride, 
with  Gainesville  and  the  marching  columns  of  infantry 
only  a  mile  or  so  ahead,  he  suddenly  found  himself 
joined  by  a  tall  stranger,  in  civilian  dress,  who  trotted 
out  of  a  little  lane  to  the  right,  and  who  surprised  him 
with  the  quiet  remark, 

"You  ride  mighty  well  for  a  Jerseyman  !" 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  a  Jerseyman?"  asked 
Kearny,  suspiciously.  His  breath  was  still  coming 
fast  and  his  heart  beating  heavily. 

"  I've  seen  you  before,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  seeing 
you  were  in  for  a  scrape  here,  I  rode  across  to  help 
you  out.  You  didn't  need  it,  though.  That's  a  fine 
horse  of  yours,  lieutenant." 

"  The  horse  is  all  right,  but  I  want  to  know  who 
you  are,  and  how  it  happens  a  man  in  civilian  dress 
is  riding  about  here  between  the  two  armies  ?"  was 
Kearny's  natural  inquiry. 

.  "  I  am  in  the  service,  and  on  a  mission  as  important 
as  your  own.  You  are  carrying  despatches,  I  pre 
sume  ?"  and  the  stranger  eyed  him  closely. 

"  Service  !  What  service  ?  See  here,  my  friend, 
if  you  are  in  the  military  service  you  ought  to  know 
enough  to  prove  your  identity.  What  duty  are  you 
on?" 

"Scouting,"  was  the  laconic  answer.     "And  here's 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  23 

my  credentials,"  he  added,  slowly,  as  he  lugged  from 
an  inside  pocket  a  small  flat  package  done  up  in  oiled 
silk.  "  I  am  in  the  secret  service,  and  know  every  inch 
of  this  country  hereabouts." 

"  All  right.  I  don't  want  your  papers.  I've  no  time. 
Was  General  McDowell  in  Gainesville  when  you  left 
there?" 

"  I  didn't  leave  there." 

"  Where  did  you  come  from,  then  ?" 

The  stranger  smiled. 

"  Never  mind,  lieutenant ;  I  see  you're  in  a  hurry 
and  want  to  get  on.  Give  my  respects  to  General 
McDowell  when  you  see  him,  and  tell  him  to  look  out 
for  that  Gap  up  yonder.  And  you  take  my  advice  : 
Don't  you  go  fooling  round  these  roads  alone  another 
time  ;  and  the  next  visit  you  pay  to  Judge  Armistead 
and  that  pretty  daughter  of  his,  you  take  a  powerful 
big  escort  with  you,  and  watch  out  for  a  Captain 
Falconer." 

And  before  Kearny  could  recover  from  his  astonish 
ment  or  ask  another  question,  the  stranger  had  shifted 
a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  jaws,  leaped  his  raw-boned 
horse  over  a  low  fence  to  the  left  of  the  road,  and 
then  went  loping  easily  over  the  fields  in  the  direction 
of  Aldie  Gap. 


III. 

LATE  that  August  afternoon  Lieutenant  Kearny, 
with  an  officer  of  McDowell's  staff,  was  seated  in  the 
shade  by  the  Warrenton  pike,  their  horses  being  held 
a  little  distance  away  by  the  aide-de-camp's  orderly. 
A  singular  hush  had  fallen  upon  the  scene.  The  broad 
thoroughfare  was  almost  deserted;  the  clouds  of  dust 
had  settled  back  to  earth,  powdering  the  beautiful 
foliage  as  they  fell ;  the  birds  were  twittering  and 
piping  among  the  leaves,  and  in  the  enclosure  just  to 
the  west  of  them — the  garden  of  a  Virginia  homestead 
— three  or  four  hound  puppies  were  chasing  each  other 
through  the  long  grass  and  romping  about  the  neglect 
ed  flower  beds,  while  their  mother,  lolling  on  the  broad 
wooden  piazza  at  the  head  of  the  flight  of  steps, 
watched  them  with  an  expression  of  benevolent  inter 
est  that  was  barely  proof  against  an  overpowering 
sense  of  drowsiness.  Some  bees  were  droning  about 
the  rose  bushes  close  at  hand,  and  adding  to  the  som 
nolent  effect  of  the  late  afternoon  sunshine ;  the  air 
was  still,  and  not  a  leaf  rustled  in  the  tree-tops.  Far 
off  to  the  west,  towards  Thoro'fare,  a  dull  booming  of 
distant  guns  could  be  heard  from  time  to  time.  Mc 
Dowell  had  sent  a  whole  division  of  infantry  to  sup 
port  the  cavalry  in  barring  Longstreet,  while  he,  with 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  25 

his  other  division,  after  marching  through  Gainesville 
and  up  the  pike  a  mile  or  so,  had  turned  off  into  the 
wood  roads  leading  towards  Manassas  Junction,  where, 
at  last  accounts,  Jackson  was  supposed  to  be. 

It  was  just  at  the  point  where  this  road  left  the  pike 
and  meandered  away  through  the  trees  that  the  staff- 
officer  and  Lieutenant  Kearny  had  dismounted  and  were 
resting.  The  general  had  ordered  the  former  to  remain 
there  to  direct  any  stray  bodies  of  troops  that  might  be 
coming  up  from  the  southwest,  and  to  receive  reports 
or  messages  coming  from  the  Gap.  To  the  latter  he 
had  given  instructions  to  wait  for  orders — he  would 
probably  have  some  word  to  send  to  General  Buford. 
Together,  therefore,  the  two  had  ridden  with  the  corps 
and  division  commanders  until  they  reached  the  fork 
of  the  roads,  and  then  had  watched  the  fine  division, 
with  its  four  full  brigades,  as  it  tramped  in  solid  col 
umn  into  the  winding  forest  aisles.  Then  Kearny 
threw  himself  on  the  turf  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and 
with  his  saddle  blanket  for  a  pillow,  went  sound 
asleep,  and  was  oblivious  of  all  surrounding  objects 
for  three  or  four  hours.  He  was  aroused  by  a  lively 
conversation  between  the  staff-officer  and  some  one 
who  had  just  arrived  from  the  west.  He  heard  his 
comrade  say,  "  You  had  better  ride  right  on  towards 
Manassas.  Follow  this  wood  road  and  you'll  find  the 
general  ahead  there  somewhere.  He  ought  to  know 
this  at  once." 

"  What's  the  news  ?"  asked  Kearny,  sitting  up  and 
rubbing  his  eyes. 

"  Buford  and  Ricketts  are  falling  back  from  Thoro'- 


26  BETWEEN    TIIE    LINES. 

fare.  The  Rebs  have  pushed  a  column  through  a  gap 
farther  to  the  north,  and  flanked  them." 

"  That  must  be  Hopeville  Gap,  where  I  was  this 
morning.  What  time  is  it  now  ?" 

"  Nearly  five,  and  you've  had  quite  a  nap  of  it.  It's 
the  quietest  day  and  the  most  peaceful  neighborhood 
I've  seen  in  a  month.  Not  a  sound  of  war  except  that 
dull  booming  off  at  Thoro'fare.  What  can  our  peo 
ple  be  doing  around  Manassas,  do  you  suppose  ?  Sure 
ly  it  is  time  we  heard  of  Jackson." 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  said  Kearny,  sitting  up,  and 
brushing  off  the  dust  with  the  cuff  of  his  gauntlet. 
"  One  might  suppose  we  were  on  a  summer  picnic. 
Have  no  orders  come  for  me  ?" 

"  Nothing — nor  for  me.  The  trains  are  back  at 
Gainesville,  but  a  lot  of  beef  cattle  were  sent  through 
here  two  hours  ago.  McDowell  halted  the  division  in 
there  on  the  Manassas  road,  and  they  have  stacked 
arms  and  gone  to  cooking.  A  division  aide  brought 
me  word  that  McDowell  had  gone  on  to  find  General 
Pope,  and  that  we  were  to  accompany  the  division 
when  it  moved.  But  it's  still  there.  The  rear  bri 
gade  isn't  more  than  half  a  mile  from  us,  so  I  decid 
ed  to  stay  here.  I  sent  the  horses  down  to  water 
an  hour  ago,  and  got  a  feed  for  them.  Aren't  you 
hungry?" 

"Not  just  now.  Where  would  we  get  supper  if  I 
were  ?" 

"  In  the  woods  with  the  division.  I  know  every 
body  at  headquarters,  and  they  would  gladly  welcome 
you.  Here  comes  one  of  them  now.  What  is  it,  cap- 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  27 

tain?"  he  asked,  as  an  officer  came  riding  hastily  tow 
ards  them. 

"  Orders  just  come  from  General  McDowell.  The 
division  is  to  get  back  on  the  pike  at  once  and  march 
to  Centreville.  They  say  Reno  and  Kearny  have 
driven  Jackson  up  there,  and  that  we've  got  him  this 
time — sure.  Hatch's  brigade  is  just  filing  out  on  the 
pike  now,  up  at  Pageland  Lane,  just  east  of  here — you 
can  see  them  from  the  rise  yonder — and  Gibbon's  fol 
lows.  Good-bye.  I  must  hurry  back  to  the  general." 

In  a  moment  Kearny  and  his  friend  were  in  saddle 
and  trotting  eastward  up  the  pike.  At  the  crest  of 
the  "  rise  "  just  referred  to  they  came  in  sight  of  a 
sweep  of  road  leading  straight  away  through  a  slight 
depression  and  over  another  crest  a  mile  distant.  Over 
this  second  ridge  the  head  of  a  long,  compact,  blue 
column  was  trudging,  the  setting  sun  throwing  heavy 
shadows  across  them  where  the  trees  hung  close  to  the 
roadway  on  the  northern  side,  and  flashing  from  the 
barrels  of  their  Springfields  at  every  opening.  Put 
ting  spurs  to  their  horses  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
little  "  dirt  roads  "  that  wound  among  the  trees  on 
the  south  side  of  the  paved  highway,  the  two  offi 
cers  speedily  reached  the  head  of  column — the  senior 
riding  up  to  and  entering  into  conversation  with  the 
brigade  commander,  the  junior  taking  his  place  among 
a  group  of  the  staff  in  their  rear.  In  this  order  they 
passed  the  division  general  and  his  staff,  who  had 
halted  under  the  trees  to  watch  the  return  of  the  bri 
gades  to  the  pike;  in  this  order,  too,  they  slowly  as 
cended  a  gentle  slope  of  the  road,  passing  on  their 


28  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

left  a  dense  grove  of  large  trees,  and  on  their  right  a 
thick  and  impenetrable  wilderness  of  forest  growth 
and  underbrush.  Almost  at  the  very  crest  the  grove 
to  their  left  abruptly  ended,  and  there  to  the  front 
opened  out  a  broad  and  beautiful  landscape.  Far  to 
the  northeastward,  the  range  of  heights  on  which  lay 
Centre ville  and  Chantilly;  midway,  the  beautiful,  un 
dulating  valley  through  which  wound  the  stream  al 
ready  so  well  known  —  Bull  Run;  half-way  to  the 
fringe  of  trees  that  marked  the  distant  windings  of  the 
run,  a  road  crossing  the  pike  at  right  angles  and  dis 
appearing  among  the  forests  a  good  two  miles  distant. 
Directly  at  the  left  hand,  north  of  the  pike  and  sepa 
rated  from  it  by  the  remains  of  a  "  snake  "  fence,  an 
open  undulating  field,  that  rose  very  gently  towards 
the  north  for  two  hundred  yards,  then  sank  in  almost 
imperceptible  slope  into  a  long,  hollow  swale,  and  rose 
again  in  slope  as  gradual  until  it  reached  a  line  of 
forest  spanning  the  fields  from  west  to  northeast 
a  full  mile  away.  Well  over  to  the  northeast  the 
trees  seemed  to  follow  a  mathematically  regular  curve 
around  the  crest  of  the  slope,  and  Kearny  could  see 
the  staff-officer  pointing  thereto  and  saying  something 
about  a  railway  embankment.  Three  hundred  yards 
in  front  of  the  head  of  column  was  another  little 
ridge  over  which  the  highway  led,  straight  away  as 
ever,  then  a  long,  gradual  descent  to  a  little  clump  of 
houses,  where  the  cross-road  and  a  brook  seemed  to 
intersect  the  pike  at  the  same  point.  Beyond  these 
and  off  to  the  south  of  the  highway  some  heavily 
wooded  and  jagged  heights,  one  of  them  shorn  of 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  29 

timber  on  the  crest;  beyond  these,  a  distant  high  pla 
teau,  where  an  old  brick  farmhouse  could  be  seen 
perched  on  the  summit  and  surrounded  by  a  garden 
and  little  patches  of  fruit-trees.  The  general  half 
turned  in  his  saddle  and  pointed  thither. 

"  Gentlemen,  that  is  Groveton  down  there  ahead  of 
us,  and  off  beyond  is  the  battle-field  of  a  year  ago — 
Bull  Run." 

And  now,  how  peaceful  the  scene  !  Over  all  that 
broad  stretch  of  country  not  a  warlike  object  was  in 
view.  Behind  them,  to  be  sure,  came  the  dark,  dense 
columns  of  the  Union  division,  swinging  steadily  for 
ward  through  the  darkening  highway.  Out  on  those 
open  fields  all  was  one  blaze  of  warm,  mellow  sun 
shine;  not  a  moving,  living  object  anywhere  except 
the  buzzing  swarm  of  insects,  or  lazily  flitting  bird 
crossing  from  the  grove  to  find  his  nest  in  the  denser 
foliage  to  the  south.  Far  to  the  rear  a  regimental 
band  had  suddenly  struck  up  a  joyous,  spirited  quick 
step,  and  the  men  in  the  leading  battalion  began  to 
chaff  their  musicians  and  urge  them  to  "  pitch  in  and 
blow  those  Western  fellows  out."  Riding  to  one  side, 
the  brigade  commander  gazed  eastward  through  his 
field-glasses. 

"  Odd !"  said  he,  "I  thought  certainly  we  should 
see  something  of  Sigel  or  Reynolds  from  here,  but 
there  is  not  even  a  dust  cloud  this  side  of  Stone 
Bridge.  It  must  be  that  they  are  all  well  over  tow 
ards  Centreville  by  this  time,  and  that  Jackson  has 
been  driven  before  them.  Certainly  there  isn't  a  soul 
in  sight  hereabouts." 


30  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

"  General !"  called  the  staff  captain,  suddenly. 
"  Look  off  yonder;  there's  a  battery  !"  and  he  pointed 
straight  to  the  north — straight  across  the  mile-wide 
undulation  of  open  field  to  some  dark  objects  that  were 
faintly  discernible  at  the  edge  of  the  forest.  The 
general  fixed  his  binocular  upon  them  a  moment, 
shook  his  head,  and  replied,  "  Only  cattle,"  then 
rode  forward  again  to  the  head  of  column.  Kearny 
started  to  follow,  but  "  Ramapo  "  suddenly  lifted  his 
off  fore-foot  and  refused  to  budge.  Dismounting  quick 
ly,  the  lieutenant  found  that  he  had  picked  up  a  piece 
of  stone  and  that  the  shoe  was  started.  It  took  some 
little  time  to  pry  out  the  offending  flint  and  to  tack 
on  the  loosened  shoe.  "When  he  remounted,  the  rear 
of  the  leading  brigade  was  just  crossing  the  crest 
towards  Groveton,  and  the  head  of  column  of  the  sec 
ond  brigade  toiling  up  the  ascent  in  the  shade  of  the 
deep  grove  on  the  northern  side.  Glancing  across  the 
fields  to  the  north,  he  saw  a  sight  that  made  his  pulses 
bound.  The  "  cattle  "  were  moving  slowly  out  from 
the  shadows  of  the  distant  forest  in  marvellous  and 
military  order — six  parallel  columns  of  twos  equidis 
tant  from  each  other,  and  coming  out  upon  the  slope 
with  a  red  pennon  fluttering  by  the  side  of  the  west 
ernmost.  Repressing  his  impulse  to  shout,  he  sat  there 
on  his  horse  silently  pointing  out  his  discovery  to  the 
chief  of  the  second  brigade,  a  tall,  slender,  wiry  man, 
with  keen  steel-blue  eyes  and  soldierly  face — a  man 
who  took  one  quick  glance  at  the  distant  objects  and 
their  long  shadows  on  the  sward,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Coming  '  in  battery,'  too  !  Ride  back,  and  bring 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  31 

up  the  guns  quick  !"  he  ordered,  and  an  aide-de-camp 
whirled  about  and  dashed  for  the  rear  of  column. 

Sheltered  by  the  bank  to  its  left,  the  leading  regi 
ment  still  trudged  sturdily  ahead,  its  gray-haired  colo 
nel  sitting  farmer  fashion  astride  an  easy-going  old 
horse.  He  glanced  inquiringly  at  the  general  as  he 
passed,  but  the  latter,  up  on  the  bank,  was  absorbed 
in  watching  the  distant  battery.  A  moment  more  and 
the  head  of  column  reached  the  top  of  the  incline  and 
came  up  level  with  the  open  fields.  The  glistening 
rifles  showed  above  the  low  rail-fence,  and  at  the  same 
instant  Lieutenant  Kearny  marked  the  distant  guns 
whirling  around  with  the  precision  of  machinery,  and 
then  white  jets  of  sulphur  smoke  belched  forth  from 
the  opposite  slope,  and  something  came  shrieking 
through  the  skies — several  somethings — and  before 
the  report  of  the  guns  could  reach  them  the  woods 
rang  with  the  sudden  crash  of  bursting  shells,  and  the 
air  was  filled  with  hurtling,  whirring  fragments  of 
iron.  "  Ha-alt !  Front !  Load  at  will !  —  load  !" 
came  the  shrill  order  from  the  old  gray-haired  soldier 
at  the  head  of  the  leading  regiment.  Quick  as  his 
word,  the  sets  of  fours  had  stopped  and  sprung  into 
line,  facing  to  the  left;  down  came  the  iron-shod  gun- 
butts  with  heavy  thud  upon  the  ground;  swarthy, 
dust-begrimed  faces  peered  out  from  under  the  visors 
with  flashing  eyes  as  hundreds  of  hands  tore  open  the 
heavy  boxes  and  raised  the  ready  cartridges  to  the 
teeth.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  as  eagerly  they  poured 
the  powder  into  the  gleaming  barrels;  and  then,  how 
the  rammers  flash  in  the  stray  gleams  of  sunlight  and 


32  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

the  bullets  are  rammed  home  !  Some  men's  hands 
must  tremble  a  little  at  such  times;  a  few  drop  their 
percussion-caps,  but  those  who  are  thoughtless  enough 
to  stoop  and  pick  them  from  the  dust  become  instant 
targets  for  the  rebuke  of  the  line  of  file-closers.  Bang  ! 
crash  !  go  more  shells  bursting  overhead,  and  whir-r-r-r 
come  the  fragments  to  earth.  "  Lie  down — close  to 
the  bank  !"  is  the  next  order,  and  in  a  moment  the 
eye  gazes  along  a  perspective  of  dusty  knapsacks  and 
blankets.  Bang  !  bang  !  again,  closer  overhead  this 
time.  "  They're  getting  our  range,"  whispers  a  young 
lieutenant  to  his  captain.  "  Hi !  here  comes  the  bat 
tery  !" 

Up  from  the  rear,  with  cracking  whips  and  plung 
ing  steeds,  cannoneers  racing  along  beside  the  wheels, 
gun-carriages  bounding  over  the  rocky  road-bed,  old 
Battery  "  B  "  comes  thundering  into  action,  greeted 
with  cheers  by  the  regiments  it  dashes  by.  "  This 
way  !  this  way  !"  shouts  a  staff-officer,  indicating  a 
break  through  the  rail-fence  just  at  the  crest,  and 
there  the  leading  gun  whirls  sharp  to  the  left  and 
goes  trotting  out  into  the  open  field;  its  caisson  fol 
lows;  then  the  next  gun,  and  the  next.  "Forward 
into  battery  !"  is  the  shouted  order  repeated  down  the 
column;  the  bugle  blares  its  signal;  the  rearward 
teams  go  tugging  obliquely  out  across  the  field;  gun 
after  gun  gains  its  place  upon  its  alignment  with  the 
blood-red  guidon  at  the  right,  and  long  before  the  last 
one  is  in  line  the  first  section  has  opened  fire  and  the 
assailing  battery  is  answered  by  the  resonant  thunder 
of  the  "  light  twelve  "  pounders. 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  33 

Meantime  Kearny  lias  galloped  to  the  brigade  com 
mander,  asking  to  be  employed,  and  telling  him  al 
most  in  the  same  breath  that  it  was  across  these  very 
fields  he  saw  cavalry  moving  early  that  morning. 

"  I  know,"  replies  the  general.  "  Follow  me,  colo 
nel,"  he  calls  to  the  commander  of  the  second  regi 
ment  in  his  column,  halted  directly  in  the  shelter  of 
the  grove.  "  It's  one  of  Stuart's  cavalry  batteries, 
and  we'll  nab  it."  Almost  at  double-quick  the  long 
column  of  eager  faces  and  dusty  blue  uniforms  plunges 
into  a  dark  wood  path  that  winds  through  the  grove, 
following  loyally  the  lead  of  their  general.  Louder 
grows  the  roar  of  the  guns  of  the  Union  battery, 
fiercer  is  the  shriek  and  crash  of  the  Southern  shells 
as  their  flight  is  lowered  to  suit  the  range.  Four 
minutes'  brisk  jog-trot  brings  the  general,  with  his 
little  knot  of  staff-officers,  to  the  northern  edge  of  the 
grove,  and  then  as  they  look  eagerly  towards  the  rebel 
guns  across  the  lowland  they  are  surprised  to  see  an 
other  battery  trotting  out  on  the  slopes  east  of  the 
first  one,  and,  starting  up  from  the  very  bosom  of  the 
earth,  springing  like  the  warriors  of  Cadmus  from  the 
sown  dragon's  teeth,  there  leap  into  view  at  sound  of 
the  bugle  a  long  line  of  gray  skirmishers  not  three 
hundred  yards  away.  Far  to  the  left  and  right  they 
extend,  covering  the  whole  front  of  that  opposite  for 
est,  stretching  their  hostile  rank  midway  between  the 
warring  batteries,  but  sheltered  from  their  fire  by  the 
hollow  in  which  they  had  been  so  skilfully  concealed. 
"  Forward  your  men,  colonel.  Drive  back  those  skir 
mishers,"  is  the  order,  and  the  advancing  regiment 
3 


34  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

deploys  the  instant  its  leading  files  are  clear  of  the 
wood.  Forward  they  go,  running  into  line;  and  'tis 
full  time  for  that  slender  rank  of  gray  to  fall  back 
before  these  overwhelming  numbers;  but  they  do  not 
budge.  On  the  contrary,  ping  !  ping  !  ring  their  rifles 
in  obedience  to  a  stirring  peal ;  the  color-bearer  of 
the  battalion  wavers,  then  plunges  heavily  forward  on 
his  face;  a  corporal  throws  down  his  rifle,  and,  seizing 
the  color-lance,  waves  the  standard  high  in  air;  then, 
with  sudden  simultaneous  crash,  a  volley  of  flame, 
smoke,  and  hissing  lead  leaps  from  the  very  bosom  of 
the  ground  not  five  hundred  yards  away;  a  whizzing 
hail  of  bullets  over  the  heads  of  the  skirmishers  on 
the  low  ground  tears  its  way  through  the  long  blue 
line,  and  here  and  there  men  fall  heavily  forward  or 
limp  painfully  out  of  ranks,  but  never  an  inch  does 
the  battalion  yield,  though  in  that  one  instant  it  finds 
itself  face  to  face  with  the  line  of  battle  of  a  whole 
brigade.  Up  from  the  earth  it  springs,  barred  battle- 
flags  and  all;  one  instant  it  halts  to  align  its  gallant 
ranks,  then  forward  it  comes  to  sweep  the  Yankee 
regiment  out  of  existence.  Still  no  order  is  given; 
the  officers  look  anxiously  around  to  know  the  reason 
why,  and  there  lies  their  colonel,  bleeding,  among  the 
weeds.  The  lieutenant-colonel  runs  to  him,  gives  one 
quick  look  in  his  senseless  face,  then  shouts,  "  Com 
mence  firing  !"  Crash  go  the  rifles  all  at  once — aimed 
full  upon  the  advancing  line.  It  halts,  reels,  staggers 
an  instant;  down  from  the  forest  edge  sweeps  a 
second  brigade  in  support,  out  from  behind  the  bat 
teries  comes  a  third,  and  in  five  minutes  the  whole 


BETWEEN    THE    LIXES.  35 

broad  slope  is  alive  with  yelling  ranks  of  gray,  sweep 
ing  in  perfect  order  down  upon  the  slender  line  in 
front,  waving  over  their  heads  in  wild  defiance  the 
blood-red  field  and  blue  St.  Andrew's  cross. 

And  still,  as  though  rooted  there,  with  men  falling 
thick  as  leaves,  that  one  blue  regiment  holds  its  ground. 
Out  from  the  grove,  hurling  away  knapsack  and  blank 
et  in  their  eagerness  to  join  in  the  fight,  two  comrade 
battalions  come  tearing  to  the  rescue,  ranging  them 
selves  in  line  to  right  and  left  of  the  first.  "  Double- 
quick,"  was  the  order,  but  run  was  the  response. 
Breathless  but  eager  they  reach  their  place  even  as 
the  old  gray-headed  colonel,  far  down  to  the  right,  is 
heard  advancing  his  men  in  line  of  battle.  No  wait 
ing  for  orders  to  fire  now.  It  is  every  man  for  him 
self  fast  as  he  can  reach  the  line.  Some  standing, 
some  kneeling,  a  very  few  lying  down,  the  second 
brigade  is  there  to  a  man,  and  every  mother's  son  of 
them  who  is  not  yet  sore  stricken  is  fighting  his  best 
— and  fighting  Stonewall  Jackson's  whole  right  wing. 
There,  halted  on  the  opposite  slopes  and  marvelling  at 
what  Jackson  calls  the  "  obstinate  determination  "  of 
the  Union  men,  five  brigades  of  Confederates — the 
flower  of  the  Southern  force — are  volleying  at  that 
one  command  of  four  Western  regiments.  Ewell, 
Taliaf  erro,  Stark,  are  there.  "  Old  Stonewall  "  him 
self,  sitting  on  his  sorrel  at  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
peers  across  the  blazing,  smoke- wreathed  field  from 
under  the  visor  of  his  worn  cadet  cap.  Half  fronting 
to  their  right,  the  rebel  batteries  drive  shell  and  case- 
shot  down  upon  the  thin  blue  line,  while  the  gray  bat- 


36  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

talions  hasten  forward,  reinforce  their  foremost  rank, 
and  "  double  up  "  with  their  rapid  fire.  It  is  desper 
ate,  stand-up,  hammer-and-tongs  work,  and  neither 
side  will  yield  an  inch.  The  third  brigade  of  the 
Union  column  is  hastening  forward  in  support,  but 
they  are  still  on  the  pike — full  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
The  situation  is  more  than  trying.  Hundreds  of  the 
gallant  blue  line  have  been  shot  down  in  their  tracks; 
and  now  cavalry  can  be  seen  twinkling  out  at  the 
left  front  just  as  the  sun  sinks  down  behind  the  dis 
tant  mountains.  "  Stuart's  men,  of  course,"  says  the 
general  to  Kearny  as  he  looks  anxiously  about  him. 
"By  Heaven  !  I  must  have  supports  on  that  flank; 
half  my  men  are  gone  already."  Ay,  here  they  come 
— parallel  columns  of  blue  striding  up  from  the  pike. 
But  by  this  time  the  Southern  force  is  so  strengthened 
from  its  rear  brigades  that  once  more  it  surges  for 
ward  upon  the  thinned  and  wellnigh  exhausted  line. 
Closing  in  on  their  colors,  the  Union  men  have  left 
huge  gaps  between  the  battalions,  and,  seeing  these, 
the  Southern  leaders  urge  on  their  ranks.  Too  late, 
gentlemen,  too  late  !  Almost  at  the  same  instant  New 
York  and  Pennsylvania  have  swarmed  into  the  gaps 
between  Indiana  and  Wisconsin.  Their  cool,  fresh 
rifles  add  new  uproar  to  the  volleying;  the  second  line 
of  Confederates  crowd  up  to  the  support  of  the  first, 
and  off  to  the  right  the  field-officer  commanding  one 
of  the  hardest-fighting  battalions  on  the  line,  seeing 
his  front  uncovered  for  a  moment  as  the  advancing 
brigades  close  up  their  bleeding  ranks,  rings  out  an 
order  that  is  heard  above  the  crash  of  musketry; 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  37 

and,  though  astonished,  his  men  cease  firing  for  the 
moment,  and  then  are  sent  at  double-quick,  "  chang 
ing  front  forward  on  tenth  company,"  and  in  another 
moment  are  pouring  a  rapid  and  telling  fire  on  the 
flank  of  the  charging  lines  in  gray.  It  is  a  glorious 
move.  "  Look  at  the  Seventh  !  Hurrah  for  the  Sev 
enth  !"  ring  the  cheers  along  the  line;  while  the  shouts 
and  shots  and  uproar  seem  to  redouble  as  the  South 
erners  are  seen  crumbling  away  under  such  savage 
fire.  Every  moment  it  is  growing  darker;  the  distant 
batteries  have  ceased  their  fire  for  fear  of  landing 
shell  and  case-shot  among  their  own  people;  but  they 
manage  to  drive  a  dozen  rounds  into  the  right  flank  of 
that  daring  battalion  before  it  slowly  retires  to  its  old 
place  in  the  line.  The  volleys  grow  redder  and  red 
der,  the  opposing  ranks  more  and  more  blurred  and 
indistinct;  little  by  little  the  fire  slackens,  and  at  last 
only  an  occasional  sputtering  shot  is  heard;  and  still 
those  worn  and  bleeding  lines  stick  to  their  ground, 
grimly,  defiantly  confronting  each  other.  Not  until 
black  darkness  settles  down  upon  the  bloody  field  does 
either  side  deign  to  withdraw.  Then,  slowly  and  sul 
lenly,  without  noise  of  any  kind,  the  regimental  com 
manders  post  a  thin  veil  of  skirmishers  along  their 
fronts,  and,  facing  their  men  to  the  rear,  move  them 
cautiously  a  few  hundred  yards  away,  stack  arms,  and 
send  out  details  to  gather  up  the  wounded.  Nearly 
one  half  of  that  gallant  Western  brigade  is  killed 
or  maimed.  Scores  of  favorite  officers,  hundreds  of 
brave  and  patriotic  men,  have  fought  their  last  fight; 
and  on  the  other  side,  where  those  dim  lanterns  are 


38  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

twinkling  over  the  field,  there  has  been  equal  loss. 
Grim  old  E well's  leg  is  gone;  Taliaferro  is  wounded; 
a  dozen  field-officers  are  killed  or  placed  hors  de  com 
bat,  and  one  daring  young  Virginia  captain,  riding 
about  the  heaping  field  in  performance  of  some  duty 
for  his  corps  commander,  comes  groping  beyond  his 
lines,  and  the  flash  of  a  lantern  reveals  those  gray 
sleeves  heavily  laced  with  gold  right  in  among  our 
skirmishers.  He  whirls  about  and  claps  spurs  to  his 
horse,  disdaining  the  order  to  dismount  and  surrender. 
A  shot  rings  out  on  the  night  air,  the  horse  plunges, 
staggers,  then  goes  prone  to  earth,  grinding  the  rider's 
leg  beneath  the  saddle.  Before  he  can  extricate  him 
self  from  his  predicament,  Lieutenant  Kearny  has 
leaped  from  his  steed  and  is  standing  over  him.  Two 
soldiers  rush  up  with  levelled  bayonets,  but  Kearny 
warns  them  off,  and  orders  one  to  hold  the  struggling 
horse  by  the  head.  In  another  moment  the  South 
erner  stands  erect,  rescued,  but  a  prisoner  of  war. 

The  division  commander,  with  some  of  his  generals 
and  a  number  of  the  staff,  are  gathered  in  a  corner  of 
the  old  rail-fence  back  of  the  grove,  when  Lieutenant 
Kearny  appears  before  them  with  his  captive.  He  is 
the  first  officer  brought  in,  and  there  is  natural  curi 
osity  to  see  him  and  hear  what  report  he  has  to  give 
of  himself.  The  general  is  his  examiner,  and  his  man 
ner  is  as  courteous  and  kindly  as  though  the  soldier 
were  one  of  his  own  command.  "  The  fortune  of 
war,"  he  says,  "  has  placed  you  in  our  hands.  You 
are  of  Jackson's  corps,  I  presume  ?" 

"  I'm  not,"  is  the  answer,  sullenly. 


I 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  39 

"  What  then  ?" 

"  I  am  on  the  staff  of  General  Stuart." 

"  How  are  we  to  account  for  your  being  here  in  our 
front  with  Jackson's  command  ?" 

"  You  wouldn't  have  had  to  trouble  yourself  with 
such  a  problem,  sir,  if  my  horse  had  not  fallen  on  me," 
is  the  answer. 

"  Where  is  General  Stuart's  command  now,  cap 
tain  ?" 

"  I  should  decline  to  answer  if  I  knew,  sir,  but  I 
don't." 

"  We  will  not  ask  you  where  Jackson  is,"  says  the 
general,  with  a  sad  shake  of  the  head,  as  he  thinks  of 
the  losses  sustained  by  his  pet  brigade,  "  but  I  would 
like  to  know  at  what  you  estimate  his  force." 

The  prisoner  eyes  his  questioner  a  moment,  then 
answers,  "  We  count  them  at  sixty  thousand — or  as 
good  as  that." 

"  Indeed !  We  knew  he  was  strong,  but  did  not 
rate  him  quite  that  high.  Captain,"  he  continues, 
turning  to  his  adjutant-general,  "  take  this  gentle 
man's  name  and  rank,  and  do  the  hospitalities  of  head 
quarters,  so  far  as  you  can.  I  have  a  despatch  to 
write.  Is  this  Lieutenant  Kearny  ?" 

"  Yes,  general,"  answers  the  young  cavalryman, 
saluting. 

"  I  believe  General  McDowell  expected  to  send  some 
word  back  by  you  to  your  brigade  commander,  who 
is  reported  as  out  beyond  Haymarket  on  the  road  to 
the  Gap.  The  general  has  gone,  however,  to  join 
General  Pope,  and  if  you  prefer  to  return  to  your 


40  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

command  to-night  you  can  do  so,  and  I  will  ask  you 
to  leave  a  despatch  with  General  Ricketts  as  you  go. 
He  is  probably  somewhere  along  the  road  between 
Gainesville  and  Hay-market." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  go,  sir.  They  will  not  know 
what  has  become  of  me  in  the  regiment." 

"  Very  well,  then.  The  note  will  be  ready  in  a 
moment,"  and  the  general  turns  away. 

His  chief  of  staff,  meantime,  has  offered  the  pris 
oner  a  drink  from  his  flask,  and  it  is  thankfully  ac 
cepted.  By  this  time  the  Virginian  is  apparently 
coming  to  the  conclusion  that  his  treatment  is  much 
more  courteous  and  considerate  than  he  supposed 
would  be  the  case.  His  answer,  therefore,  to  the  next 
question,  though  somewhat  hesitating,  is  given  in  a 
pleasanter  tone  of  voice. 

"Your  name  and  regiment,  captain?5' 

"  I  am  Captain  Falconer,  of  the  — th  Virginia  Cav 
alry." 

Kearny  turns  sharply  in  mingled  interest  and  sur 
prise.  The  words  of  the  stranger  whom  he  had  met 
in  the  morning — "  Watch  out  for  a  Captain  Falconer  " 
— are  suddenly  brought  to  mind.  Can  it  be  possible 
that  this  is  the  man  ?  If  so,  what  reason  is  there  for 
being  especially  on  his  guard  against  this  by  no  means 
ill-looking  Virginian  ? 

"  You  stated  that  you  were  on  duty  with  General  Stu 
art,  captain,"  continues  the  adjutant-general;  "where 
and  when  did  you  last  see  him  ?" 

"  You  will  have  to  excuse  me,  sir,"  is  the  answer, 
given  most  courteously  and  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "  I 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  41 

am  sorry  to  have  to  requite  your  hospitality  in  this 
\vay,  but  I  must  decline  to  give  any  information  as  to 
my  commander  and  his  movements.  You  know  that 
under  like  conditions  you  would  do  the  same." 

At  this  moment  the  division  commander  reappears, 
a  folded  note  in  his  hand. 

"  You  can'  probably  reach  Gainesville  unmolested, 
Mr.  Kearny,"  he  says  ;  "  our  fourth  brigade  covers 
the  pike  most  of  the  way,  but  after  that  you  must  be 
on  the  alert.  It  is  my  belief  that  Stuart's  men  are 
scouting  all  the  lanes  and  by-ways  north  of  the  road 
to  Thoro'fare  Gap." 

"  I  know  they  are,  general,"  is  Kearny 's  answer,  as 
he  swings  into  saddle  ;  "  they  nearly  got  me  this 
morning  as  I  was  coming  down  from  Hopeville. 
Good-night,  sir ;  good-night,  gentlemen  ;"  and  the 
lieutenant  rides  forth  upon  the  crowded  turnpike  and 
heads  his  horse  for  Gainesville.  He  has  hardly  dis 
appeared  in  the  darkness  when  the  Virginia  captain, 
who  has  been  gazing  fixedly  after  him,  turns  to  the 
adjutant-general. 

"  May  I  ask  that  officer's  name  ?" 

"  That  is  Lieutenant  Kearny,  of  the New  Jer 
sey  Cavalry,  and  you  are  not  his  first  prisoner,  cap 
tain." 

"  No,  by  Heaven  !  There  are  men  who  would  give 
their  eye-teeth  to  know  just  where  he  is  this  night;" 
and,  as  though  urged  by  an  irresisible  longing,  he 
turns  and  looks  over  to  the  northwest — one  quick 
glance — then,  recovering  himself,  suddenly  resumes 
his  nonchalant  mien. 


42  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

"I  thought  so,"  whispers  the  chief  of  staff  to  a 
comrade.  "  Stuart  must  be  in  those  woods  in  front 
of  Patrick's  brigade.  No  doubt  he  is  watching  every 
inch  of  the  Gap  road,  too." 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  is  the  reply,  "  young  Kearny 
will  have  to  run  the  gauntlet  to-night." 


IY. 

LATE  that  night,  threading  his  weary  way  along  a 
road  blocked  with  wagons  and  straggling  troops,  Lieu 
tenant  Kearny  rode  out  westward  from  Gainesville  in 
hopes  of  rejoining  his  own  regiment  and  having  a  few 
hours'  sleep  before  dawn.  He  had  delivered  his  de 
spatch  to  the  division  commander,  and  received  anoth 
er  which  he  was  requested  to  hand  to  General  Buford, 
who  was  covering  the  front,  so  they  said  around  the 
headquarters  tents,  out  beyond  Haymarket.  One  aide- 
de-camp  said  three  miles;  another  said  three  quarters 
of  a  mile;  no  one  seemed  to  know  exactly,  and  all  of 
the  staff,  having  been  in  saddle,  marching,  fighting, 
and  running  about  the  country  since  early  dawn,  were 
now  too  sleepy  and  tired  to  lift  their  heads  from  the 
ground  on  which  they  lay,  rolled  in  their  dusty  blank 
ets.  A  field-officer,  charged  with  the  duty  of  look 
ing  after  the  grand  guards  and  pickets,  assured  him 
that  he  would  find  the  road  "  in  the  hands  of  our  peo 
ple  "  well  out  beyond  Haymarket,  and  that  Buford's 
patrols  and  videttes  held  it  beyond  them  almost  to  the 
Gap.  One  or  two  divisions  of  Longstreet's  corps  were 
already  through,  he  said,  and  bivouacked  in  the  open 
fields  just  under  the  range.  Stuart's  people  ?  "No. 
He  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  them.  If  they  were 


44  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

north  of  the  pike  they  had  all  been  called  eastward 
over  towards  Groveton,  where  all  that  heavy  fighting 
had  been  going  on  about  sunset.  Could  the  lieutenant 
tell  him  anything  about  that  ?  The  lieutenant  could 
and  did.  In  point  of  fierceness  and  fatality  there  had 
been  nothing,  he  said,  from  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
to  equal  the  combat  he  had  witnessed  that  evening. 
Now  that  the  excitement  of  battle  no  longer  sustained 
him,  and  the  darkness  of  night  weighed  heavily  upon 
his  wearied  senses,  Kearny  shuddered  as  he  thought 
of  those  long  ranks  of  dead  and  dying,  facing  each 
other  along  that  rolling,  undulating  mile  of  open  fields 
where  the  battle  lines  had  stood  loading  and  firing  for 
two  mortal  hours,  until  nothing  but  the  red  flash  of 
musketry  could  be  seen. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  send  a  sergeant  and  three  or 
four  men  with  you  ?"  asked  the  field-officer,  as,  riding 
together,  they  finally  reached  the  outpost.  "  You  will 
be  alone  for  a  mile,  perhaps,  before  you  reach  any  of 
Buford's  people,  and  there's  no  telling  what  you  may 
run  across  along  this  road." 

Kearny  looked  at  the  little  party  grouped  in  silence 
under  a  patch  of  trees  by  the  road-side.  All  seemed 
weary  and  depressed  after  the  long,  long  day  of  tramp 
and  the  nervous  strain  of  hours  in  line  of  battle.  There 
was  something  pathetic  in  the  silence  and  subordina 
tion  with  which  they  awaited  his  reply.  Two  of  the 
men  had  spread  their  blankets  under  a  tree,  and  had 
apparently  just  been  relieved  as  sentinels,  and  were 
about  to  lie  down.  They  knelt  there  looking  up  at 
the  two  mounted  officers,  and  one  of  them  muttered  a 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  45 

low  word  of  expostulation,  which  the  sergeant  promptly 
rebuked.  They  were  infantrymen  —  volunteers  —  and 
their  duties  were  onerous  enough  already,  thought 
Kearny,  without  having  to  tramp  out  into  the  dark 
ness  and  danger  escorting  every  belated  dragoon  who 
happened  along.  "  No,"  he  said.  "  Thank  you,  kindly, 
major.  '  Ramapo '  and  I  pulled  through  here  all  right 
to-day,  and  I  think  we  can  do  it  again.  Some  Reb 
troopers  tried  to  cut  me  off  just  about  a  mile  from 
here  this  morning,  but  we  slipped  by  them.  They 
cannot  see  me  at  night,  and  we'll  walk  along  soft  as 
a  kitten.  Won't  we,  old  boy?"  But  "Ramapo," 
though  thus  affectionately  appealed  to,  did  not  rise 
to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion.  With  drooping  head 
and  jaded  mien  he  looked  wistfully  about  in  search 
of  possible  shelter  and  refreshment,  and  did  not  even 
prick  up  his  ears  in  response  to  the  encouraging  slap 
from  his  master's  gauntlet. 

"Now,  good-night,  sir,"  said  Kearny,  holding  out  his 
hand,  after  a  brief  examination  of  his  revolver  cham 
bers.  "  These  caps  seem  all  in  good  shape.  I  feel 
that  I  must  get  to  my  regiment  to-night,  for  they  are 
sure  to  be  fighting  at  daybreak,  and  they  don't  know 
where  I  am.  Next  thing  I  know  they'll  be  reporting 
me  as  captured,  killed,  or  missing,  and  scaring  my 
home  people  to  death.  Thank  you  for  coming  so  far 
with  me,  and  good-night  again.  Sergeant,  keep  your 
ears  open,  and  if  I  am  driven  back,  be  ready  to  back 
them  up  in  turn ;"  and,  waving  his  hand  and  touching 
"  Ramapo  "  with  the  spur,  he  rode  slowly  away  into 
the  darkness,  leaving  a  silent  little  group  behind  him. 


46  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

There  were  no  trees  now  on  either  side.  The  fields, 
he  knew,  were  bare  and  lying  neglected.  There  was 
no  one  to  till  them  if  crops  could  be  raised,  and  there 
were  too  many  to  sweep  away  the  crop  in  case  a  strug 
gling  growth  were  effected.  It  was  dark  as  pitch.  He 
could  not  recall  a  night  so  dark  in  his  year  of  cam 
paigning.  Not  a  vestige  of  moon  was  there,  though 
here  and  there  a  faint  twinkling  star  peeped  through 
rifts  in  the  clouds,  that  seemed  to  have  been  drawn 
like  a  veil  over  the  face  of  the  heavens,  hiding  from 
celestial  eyes  the  wof ul  scene  of  this  day's  bloody  work. 
Earlier  in  the  evening,  as  he  rode  into  Gainesville,  he 
heard  the  mournful  plaint  of  the  whippoorwill  in  the 
moist  and  misty  aisles  of  the  forest,  but  now  a  hush 
had  fallen  on  the  broad,  beautiful  valley,  and  not  a 
sound  disturbed  the  deathlike  silence  but  the  muffled 
tread  of  his  charger's  hoofs  in  the  deep,  dust-covered 
road.  Such  silence,  following  on  such  scenes  and  inci 
dents  as  he  had  encountered  through  the  day,  is  trying 
to  nerves  long  set  on  edge.  A  faint  whiff  of  night 
wind  swept  across  the  highway  from  time  to  time, 
and  he  turned  his  head,  hoping  to  catch  the  sound  of 
pawing  hoof  or  the  p-r-r-r-r-r  of  grazing  horses  on  the 
south  side  of  the  track.  Only  Buford's  men  would 
likely  be  there;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  to  the  north, 
he  knew  not  how  many  foemen  to  expect.  Stuart's 
cavalry,  Mosby's  rangers,  Turner  Ashby's  partisans, 
any  of  these  might  be  scouting  the  fields  and  trotting 
through  the  wood  roads  above  the  pike  and  keeping 
up  communication  between  Longstreet's  advance  bri 
gades  in  front  of  the  two  gaps,  and  Stuart  and  Jackson 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  47 

over  there  to  the  northeast  of  Gainesville.  Time  and 
again  he  reined  in  "  Ramapo,"  fancying  he  could  hear 
muttered  words  or  muffled  hoof -beats  over  in  that 
direction,  but  after  a  few  minutes  of  intent  listening 
would  again  push  slowly  on.  Once  or  twice  "  Rama- 
po's"  hoofs  struck  some  loose  stone  upon  the  road 
with  loud  and  startling  click,  and  once  this  betraying 
noise  was  accompanied  by  a  sudden  gleam  like  an  elec 
tric  spark,  as  flint  and  iron  clashed  together.  His  sa 
bre,  too,  swinging  at  the  full  length  of  its  slings,  clanked 
occasionally  against  his  spurred  boot-heel,  and  he  shoved 
it  between  his  leg  and  the  saddle-straps  to  put  an  end 
to  its  clamor.  So  moving,  he  had  covered  perhaps  half 
a  mile  without  molestation  of  any  kind,  when,  far  out 
to  his  front — in  the  roadway,  doubtless — he  caught 
sight  of  a  faint  and  sudden  flash  of  light  that  he  in 
stantly  divined  to  be  the  result  of  just  such  a  clash  of 
flint  and  steel  as  caused  the  spark  under  "  Ramapo's  " 
forefoot  but  a  moment  before.  Horsemen  ahead ! 
Now  for  the  question,  who  are  they?  Judging  by 
its  feeble  glow,  that  flash  must  have  been  nearly  two 
hundred  yards  away,  and  as  yet  no  sound  had  reached 
him.  Again  he  halted  "Ramapo"  and  listened,  his 
heart  beating  a  little  heavier.  For  a  few  seconds  all 
was  stillness  ;  then,  bending  forward  and  with  hand 
at  his  ear,  he  could  catch  the  faint  beat  of  iron-shod 
hoofs  upon  the  dusty  carpet  of  the  road.  " Ramapo" 
heard  it  too,  and  began  pricking  up  his  ears,  and  there 
was  imminent  danger  of  his  bursting  into  a  shrill  neigh 
by  way  of  hailing  his  fellow-quadrupeds,  when  Kearny 
leaped  quickly  from  the  saddle,  caught  his  charger  by 


48  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

the  nostrils,  and  led  him  to  one  side,  down  into  the 
ditch  that  just  there  ran  along  the  road.  It  was  so 
dark  that  he  could  not  see  it  at  all,  and  both  he  and 
his  horse  slid  and  stumbled  as  they  groped  their  way. 
There  was  an  appalling  rattle  of  his  sabre  as  it  clanked 
against  the  stony  brink,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  splashed 
into  some  water.  This  led  him  to  the  belief  that  he 
must  be  down  in  the  shallows  where  the  brook  crossed 
the  road.  Perhaps  it  was  here,  close  at  hand,  and 
these  troopers  were  coming  down  to  water  their  horses. 
If  they  were  Buford's  men,  all  well  and  good;  he  could 
soon  tell  by  the  muttered  chat  that  was  pretty  sure  to 
be  going  on.  If  they  were  the  enemy — and  they  might 
readily  be,  for  it  was  just  here  they  pushed  their  scout 
ing  parties  in  between  the  lines  that  morning — then  he 
must  lie  perdu  until  they  moved  away,  or  else  steal  off 
to  the  fields  on  his  left  hand,  still  holding  "Ramapo" 
by  the  nose.  He  could  not  mount  and  ride,  because 
the  horse  would  be  sure  to  signal  to  his  fellows,  now 
approaching  at  a  rapid  and  audible  walk,  and  because 
the  railway,  with  its  rough  ties  and  parallel  ditches, 
lay  between  him  and  the  open  country  to  the  south. 
No,  his  best  plan  was  to  hold  his  ground  until  satisfied 
who  these  midnight  raiders  might  be,  then  make  him 
self  known  or  crouch  in  hiding  as  they  turned  out  to 
be  friends  or  foes. 

Almost  before  he  had  succeeded  in  leading  "  Rama 
po  "  out  of  the  water  and  into  a  dry  place  where  he 
could  not  betray  them  by  splashing,  the  sound  of  hoofs 
crossing  the  little  wooden  culvert  was  heard;  two  horse 
men  rode  like  shadowy  spectres  between  him  and  the 


"  Tico  horsemen  rode  like  shadowy  spectres  between  Mm  and  the 
stars  of  the  northern  sky." 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  49 

stars  of  the  northern  sky,  and  reined  in  just  beyond, 
while  the  rest  of  the  party  stopped  at  the  brook  to  wa 
ter.  These  two  in  front  were  evidently  the  extreme 
advance  or  "  outlooks  "  of  a  cavalry  patrol,  but  in  the 
impenetrable  darkness  he  could  form  no  idea  of  the 
uniforms  or  equipment.  If  they  would  only  speak ! 
He  knew  the  Southern  intonation  so  well,  the  soft 
elision  of  the  r's,  the  modulation  and  inflections  which 
a  harsher  clime  seems  to  have  exiled  from  the  North 
ern  tongue.  He  could  hear  the  murmur  of  voices  at  the 
brook-side,  but  not  a  word  came  from  these  drowsing 
cavaliers  in  front.  While  one  seemed  intent  on  listen 
ing  for  any  sound  towards  Haymarket,  the  other  waited 
until  he  could  hear  the  patrol  once  more  advancing, 
then  turned  eastward,  and  in  ghostly  silence  the  two 
moved  slowly  away.  Lost  in  the  darkness  perhaps 
half  a  minute  were  these  pioneers,  then  came  others 
in  sight;  muffled  in  cloaks  or  capes  they  seemed  to  be, 
for  the  night  was  chill,  and  the  two  whose  forms  were 
outlined  in  advance  were  talking  softly  with  each  oth 
er;  the  rest,  perhaps  half  a  dozen  troopers,  were  strung 
out  in  column  of  twos  behind  their  leaders,  silent,  and 
doubtless  sleepy.  Kearny  strained  his  ears  to  catch 
the  words  that  passed  between  the  two  horsemen  at 
the  head  of  the  little  troop  as  they  came  abreast  of 
him,  but  the  hoof -beats  and  the  clank  of  steel  scab 
bards  were  sufficient  to  render  the  voices  indistinguish 
able.  Suddenly  one  of  the  leaders  threw  up  a  shadowy 
hand,  and  his  voice,  low  and  muffled,  was  heard. 

"Steady!— halt!" 

Far  out  to  the  front — from  the  darkness  in  which 
4 


50  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

the  pioneers  had  disappeared — some  one  whistled  soft 
and  clear.  The  patrol  stood  motionless  in  the  road 
way  a  moment,  listening.  No  further  signal  came; 
all  was  silence. 

"What's  the  matter?"  finally  queried  a  deep  voice, 
hardly  above  a  whisper. 

"  Don't  know,"  was  the  muttered  answer.  "  Corpo 
ral,  just  ride  out  yonder  and  see  what  they  want." 

Kearny  crouched  lower,  and  kept  his  iron  grip  on 
"Ramapo's"  nostrils.  The  soft  drawl,  the  languid 
intonation,  the  long-drawn  "  yawnduh"  were  enough 
for  him.  No  man  of  Buford's  brigade  sat  on  those 
spectral  steeds  not  ten  paces  from  the  New  Jersey 
cavalryman.  Those  were  "  Rebs,"  and  out  on  one  of 
their  daring  scouts  along  the  Union  lines. 

Presently  the  corporal  came  trotting  back.  "  You 
can  see  the  camp-fires  from  where  they  are,  lieuten 
ant,"  he  reported. 

"  Well,  we  icant  to  see  'em.  Whut  're  we  hyah 
faw?"  is  a  faint  imitation  of  the  next  remark  that 
reached  the  attentive  ears  of  Lieutenant  Kearny. 
"  C'mawn,  men !"  and  the  leader  of  the  little  troop 
would  have  started  but  for  a  restraining  voice — a  voice 
that  startled  the  hiding  Jerseyman  almost  to  the  verge 
of  losing  his  grip  on  his  horse's  nose. 

"  One  moment,  lieutenant.  Between  here  and  their 
lines  the  fence  is  intact  on  both  sides  of  the  road.  At 
least  it  was  when  I  came  across  two  days  ago.  We 
are  now  just  midway  between  Buford's  outposts  and 
those  main  lines.  If  one  of  Buford's  patrols  should 
come  along  while  we  are  east  of  this  point  there  might 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  51 

be  difficulty  in  slipping  out.  He  has  patrols  in  every 
direction  to-night,  and,  much  as  I  would  like  to  pick 
up  some  courier  or  staff-officer  with  despatches,  I  don't 
want  to  sacrifice  the  whole  platoon.  Our  nearest  sup 
ports  now  are  more  than  a  mile  away,  and  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  move  from  here." 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  get  close  in  to  their  lines, 
Captain  Armistead,"  said  the  junior. 

"  Not  if  it  place  us  in  a  cul-de-sac.  It  is  open  to  our 
rear  now,  but  there's  no  saying  how  soon  we  may  have 
to  fight  a  patrol.  I  must  have  heard  at  least  four  since 
leaving  Hopeville  at  dusk." 

"  That  man  Falconer  go  back  to  Thoro'fare  ?"  asked 
the  junior,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Captain  Falconer  left  before  I  did,"  was  the  reply, 
in  a  somewhat  distant  tone.  "I  understood  that  he 
was  to  return  to  his  squadron  at  once.  Know  him 
well  ?"  he  questioned,  with  no  lack  of  interest  in  the 
inquiry. 

"  Know  him  well  enough  to  say  I  don't  trust  him," 
was  the  uncompromising  answer.  "  Shall  we  stay  here 
on  the  road,  or  lead  off  to  one  side  ?" 

Already,  mindful  of  what  he  had  heard  in  the  morn 
ing  and  the  peril  of  his  present  situation,  Kearny  was 
striving  noiselessly  to  lead  "  Ramapo  "  over  the  soft 
ground  until,  in  the  darkness,  he  should  gain  the  rear 
of  the  party,  then  he  could  mount  and  away.  His 
cavalry  instincts  told  him  that  two  or  three  members 
of  the  platoon  must  be  some  hundred  yards  behind 
them  up  the  road,  watching  for  anything  that  might 
come  from  the  west,  but  he  believed  that  they  would 


52  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

never  suspect  him  to  be  other  than  one  of  their  own 
party  until  he  reached  them,  then  he  must  trust  to 
surprise,  darkness,  and  "  Ramapo's  "  heels.  His  arm 
and  hand  were  wellnigh  exhausted  now  from  the  long 
struggle  to  "  gag  "  the  excited  horse.  If  he  could  only 
hold  out  a  minute  longer !  If  only  there  should  be  no 
stones,  no  stumble  !  If  only  the  sabre  would  not  clank ! 
Ah !  a  plunge,  a  snort,  a  rattle  of  gravel  down  the 
slope,  a  scrambling  of  hoofs,  a  desperate  leap  and 
spring,  a  fierce  and  sudden  chorus  of  "  Who  goes 
there?"  "Who  goes  there?"  "Halt!"  "HaltF 
"  Head  him  off,  men  !"  A  sputter  and  crash  of  scores 
of  iron-shod  feet,  the  rattle  of  steel,  the  click  of  a  doz 
en  revolvers,  then  a  flash  and  loud  report,  another,  an 
other!  and  "Ramapo"  is  plunging  headlong  down 
into  the  running  brook,  rolling  heavily,  erushingly, 
upon  a  prostrate  and  senseless  rider. 

There  are  anxious  hearts  in  the  bivouac  of  Buford's 
men  when  morning  dawns  and  gallant  Frank  Kearny 
is  still  reported  missing. 


Y. 

ANXIOUS  days  were  those  that  followed  the  first 
grapple  of  Pope  and  Jackson  along  the  famous  old 
Warrenton  turnpike.  Darkness  had  put  an  end  to 
the  initial  conflict ;  darkness  had  shrouded  from  the 
watchers  at  Hopeville  Gap  all  sign  of  the  tragic  scenes 
and  weary  marches  of  the  night,  but  early  morn  found 
them  again  at  their  station  on  the  piazza,  the  old  judge 
with  his  telescope,  his  pale  and  sweet-faced  daughter 
kneeling  by  his  chair.  Brief  indeed  had  been  the  visit 
from  devoted  son  and  brother  the  evening  before.  He 
had  been  led  to  his  sleeping  father's  side,  and  soon  the 
three  —  father,  son,  and  daughter  —  were  absorbed  in 
the  joy  of  their  reunion  and  engaged  in  eager  talk. 
Rapidly  as  possible  the  young  soldier  told  them  of  the 
situation  of  affairs,  and  their  hope  that  Lee  and  Long- 
street  would  be  able  to  join  hands  with  Jackson  early  on 
the  coming  day,  and  beat  the  Yankees  back  or  cut  them 
off  from  Washington.  He  was  eager,  enthusiastic,  con 
fident.  Every  officer  and  man,  he  said,  had  most  im 
plicit  faith  in  Lee  ;  and  as  for  Jackson,  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  his  "  foot  cavalry "  followed  him  on  the 
most  daring  flanking  moves  was  something  no  words 
could  describe.  "  But  it  looks  ugly  to-night,"  he  con 
tinued,  with  an  anxious  glance  eastward,  where  the 


54  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

guns  were  still  booming,  and  the  distant  flashes  could 
be  seen  in  the  gathering  gloom.  "The  Yanks  seem 
to  be  crowding  all  around  him,  and  I've  got  to  hurry. 
Stuart  is  on  his  right,  and  I'll  doubtless  meet  some  of 
our  patrols  before  I  get  half-way  across."  Cautioned 
by  his  father  to  look  out  for  Federal  cavalry,  whose 
main  body  was  known  to  be  on  the  road  to  the  lower 
gap,  he  answered  that  they  were  simply  holding  the 
line  to  Gainesville  and  Haymarket ;  the  direct  road 
from  Hopeville  over  to  Jackson  was  open,  and  scouted 
only  by  Stuart's  men.  If  all  went  well,  he  said,  he 
would  be  able  to  see  them  again  within  a  day  or  two, 
but  he  felt  that  he  must  rejoin  his  chief  that  night. 
When  the  three  went  out  upon  the  dark  piazza  it  was 
found  that  Captain  Falconer  had  gone. 

"His  father  and  I  were  such  warm  friends  that  I 
hate  to  think  of  his  having  gone  away  without  a  word. 
Lucy,  child,  I  hope  you  invited  him  in  and  gave  him  a 
welcome." 

"  I  did,  father ;  but  Henry  came  just  in  the  midst 
of  my  words,  and — surely  he  will  understand  and  ap 
preciate  that  we  did  not  mean  to  be  discourteous ;  he 
knows  we  had  not  seen  Henry  since  last  March." 

"And  who  was  that  Federal  officer  who  rode  in  here 
early  this  morning  and  said  he  knew  Henry?"  asked 
the  judge,  with  a  frown  upon  his  venerable  face. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Harry  !  Think  of  it !  A  lieutenant  of 
cavalry  who  was  scouting,  he  said,  rode  in  and  asked 
to  see  father,  who  declined,  and  then  he  told  me  that 
he  knew  you  well — had  been  in  college  with  you." 

Captain  Armistead  was  standing  by  his  horse  at 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  55 

the  moment,  busily  stowing  away  some  packages  of 
home-made  "  rations  "  that  Hannah  had  brought  him 
from  the  kitchen.  "  Old  Nelse  "  was  at  the  horse's 
head,  and  his  portly  spouse  had  come  forth  from  her 
own  dominions  to  see  "  young  mars'r  "  on  his  way. 
On  one  of  the  lower  steps  were  the  judge  and  Lucy, 
side  by  side,  his  arm  around  his  daughter's  slender 
waist;  her  arm  uplifted  and  bearing  a  lantern  whose 
beams  shone  upon  her  sweet  face  and  tinged  the  shim 
mering  gold  of  her  hair.  The  young  soldier  turned 
suddenly  at  her  words,  surprise  and  interest  in  his 
eyes,  but  the  question  he  would  ask  seemed  checked 
for  the  moment  as  he  gazed  up  at  the  group  before 
him — his  father's  silvered  hair  and  noble  features,  his 
sister's  graceful  form  and  girlish  beauty,  all  illumined 
by  the  rays  of  the  battered  old  lantern,  and  shining 
forth  against  the  black  background  of  the  vine-shroud 
ed  piazza.  With  the  blindness  of  brotherhood,  never 
until  then  had  he  realized  how  fair  a  woman  she  had 
grown  to  be. 

"  Lulie,"  he  broke  forth  after  brief  study  of  her 
face,  and  hailing  her  by  the  old  pet  name  of  their 
childhood,  "  I  declare  you're  getting  to  be  a  tearing 
beauty.  Don't  you  be  making  eyes  at  any  of  those 
fellows  who  come  up  here  saying  they're  *  scouting.' 
I  know  too  much  about  that.  There's  no  likelihood 
of  your  seeing  any  more  of  the  Yanks;  but  no  flirting 
with  them,  Miss  Armistead,  whatever  you  do.  Who 
was  this  fellow  who  rode  in  to-day  ?  Some  of  their 
rear-guard,  I  reckon." 

Her  face  had  flushed  with  girlish  delight  at  her 


56  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

brother's  involuntary  tribute.  Compliments  from  such 
a  source  are  rare  in  any  household,  and  are  worth  their 
face  value  wherever  uttered.  She  hardly  heard  the 
question  that  followed,  and  it  was  her  father  who 
answered, 

"  He  gave  his  name  as  Kearny,  of  the  New  Jersey 
Cavalry." 

"  Frank  Kearny  !  Here  /"  exclaimed  Armistead,  as 
though  shocked  and  startled.  He  dropped  the  strap 
from  his  nerveless  hand,  and  turned  suddenly  away, 
so  that  his  face  was  hidden.  "Are  you  sure  he  said 
Kearny,  Lucy?"  he  queried,  seizing  again  the  strap 
and  striving  to  buckle  down  the  flap  of  the  saddle-bag 
with  fingers  that  bungled  painfully  at  their  work. 

"  I  am  sure  he  said  Kearny,  Harry,"  was  her  an 
swer.  "  Who  is  he  ?  Why  should  it  startle  you  so. 
Were  you  at  college  together?  Captain  Falconer 
spoke  of  his  having  been  your  guest  in  Richmond  two 
winters  ago." 

"  How  did  he  know  of  it  ?  Did  you  tell  him  of 
Kearny's  being  here?"  asked  the  captain,  with  deep 
anxiety  in  his  tone. 

"  I  did,  certainly.  Why,  what  is  there  about  him, 
Harry  ?  Why  should  I  not  speak  of  it  ?" 

"  No  reason,  really,  except — this  was  the  Federal 
officer  who  captured  Pegram  and  Eustis  down  by 
Cedar  Mountain.  You  heard  of  it,  did  you  not,  fa 
ther?  And  we  have  heard  ugly  stories  of  the  way 
they  were  treated — not  by  him,  but  by  their  guards 
while  being  sent  to  Washington,  and  the  whole  bri 
gade  is  up  in  arms  about  it.  I  believe  that  Pope  him- 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  57 

self  would  not  be  so  prized  a  captive  as  Frank  Kearny. 
And  it  is  true,  we  were  churns  at  college,  and  at  one 
time  room-mates." 

"  I  don't  remember  your  writing  of  him,"  said  his 
father;  "that  is,  I  remember  the  name,  and  it  seems 
to  me  you  used  to  say  something  of  him  at  first — " 

"  We  had  a  falling  out  during  the  senior  year,  fa 
ther  ;  that  was  the  reason.  It  was  a  foolish  affair,  and 
all  my  fault,  I  suppose ;  but  we  were  estranged  from 
that  time  until  we  happened  to  meet  at  the  Spotts- 
wood  one  night  late  in  the  autumn  of  '60.  Then  we 
shook  hands,  and  the  hatchet  was  buried." 

"  But  Captain  Falconer  said  he  was  your  guest  for 
a  week  at  Richmond,"  interposed  Miss  Armistead. 

"  Falconer  exaggerates  the  case  if  he  meant  to  inti 
mate  that  he  was  especially  my  guest.  I  introduced 
him  at  the  club,  and  his  own  social  qualities  did  the 
rest.  We  were  always  on  courteous  and  pleasant 
terms  when  we  met  there,  which  may  have  misled 
Falconer ;  but  not  what  we  had  been.  There  was  a 
matter  that  couldn't  well  be  explained,"  and  he  turned 
away  again. 

She  was  down  in  the  roadway  and  at  his  side  in  an 
other  moment,  twining  her  arm  about  his  neck. 

"  Oh,  Harry  !"  she  whispered,  "  I  know  now.  Miss 
Paulding,  wasn't  it  ?" 

But  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  gently.  "  Hush, 
little  sister,"  he  murmured  ;  "  never  mind  the  old  sore. 
I  have  a  lady-love  now  that  none  can  rob  me  of,  and 
yet  the  more  rivals  I  have  the  better  I  like  it.  We 
allude  to  her  somewhat  disrespectfully  at  times,  Miss 


58  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

Armistead,"  he  said,  with,  resumption  of  the  gay  cav 
alier  manner.  "  She  has  beaux  without  number  this 
summer,  and  we  mean  to  proclaim  her  Queen  of  Beau 
ty,  Chivalry,  and  of  these  Confederate  States  of  Amer 
ica  before  another  winter.  I  allude  to  '  Old  Virgin- 
ny,'  Miss  Armistead,  one  of  whose  fairest  daughters  I 
have  now  the  honor  to  salute  in  parting.  God  bless 
you,  little  one  !"  he  said,  softly,  tenderly,  as  he  clasped 
her  in  his  arms.  "  Pray  for  us  and  the  Star  of  the 
South  to-night.  Kow  let  me  go."  She  was  cling 
ing  to  him,  looking  with  tearful  eyes  into  his  brave 
young  face.  He  led  her  to  their  father's  side,  grasped 
the  old  man's  hand  in  both  his  one  moment,  then 
with  sudden  impulse  bared  his  head,  bent  and  kissed 
it  as  courtier  might  have  kissed  his  sovereign's,  then 
sprang  to  his  horse,  swung  lightly  into  the  saddle,  and 
turned  sharply  away  into  the  dim  and  shadowy  vista 
to  the  gate.  Another  moment  and  the  hoof -beats 
were  dying  away  in  outer  darkness. 

All  that  next  day  the  sullen  guns  were  booming  at 
intervals  over  in  the  valley  of  the  Run.  All  the  long 
morning  the  dust-clouds  rose  dense  and  stifling  over 
the  road  to  Gainesville,  and  through  his  ready  glass  the 
old  gentleman  could  catch  occasional  glimpses  of  the 
marching  columns  and  the  red  battle-flags  fluttering 
overhead.  All  the  day  from  time  to  time  patrols  and 
scouting  parties  of  Stuart's  men  went  riding  by,  some 
times  sending  in  an  officer  to  ask  a  question  or  two, 
or  a  man  in  search  of  water  for  the  canteens.  From 
one  and  all  the  same  report  was  received:  "Every 
thing  going  well.  Lee  and  Longstreet  were  pushing 


BETWEEN   TUE   LINES.  59 

ahead  to  join  Jackson  and  give  the  Yanks  another 
beating  on  the  field  where  we  thrashed  them  the  year 
before.  It  would  all  be  settled  by  nightfall !"  And 
then  the  long  afternoon  wore  away,  and  the  roads 
from  the  two  gaps  were  cleared  of  troops,  and  the 
dust  began  to  settle  back  to  earth,  and  the  windows 
in  the  little  hamlet  at  the  junction  of  the  pikes  to 
gleam  red  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun ;  and  then, 
just  as  the  day  before,  the  thunder  of  a  fierce  cannon 
ade  rumbled  in  the  distance,  and  the  faint  roar  of  mus 
ketry  could  be  distinguished  by  the  listening  ear,  and 
the  far-away  forests  were  lighted  up  with  a  lurid  battle- 
glare  ;  and  then  again,  just  as  suddenly,  it  died  away, 
and  another  restless,  anxious  night  succeeded.  Then 
came  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  and  from  sunrise 
to  darkness  the  old  Virginian  never  left  his  post  on 
the  piazza.  The  open  fields  to  the  north  of  Groveton 
were  distinctly  in  view,  and  there  through  the  glass 
he  could  see  the  charging  lines  in  blue,  reeling  back 
again  and  again  before  that  fire-flashing  embankment. 
He  could  see  long  lines  in  gray  filing  into  the  forest 
south  of  the  broad  turnpike,  and  being  swallowed  up 
in  the  density  of  the  foliage.  Then  late  in  the  after 
noon  the  distant  crests  of  Bald  Hill  and  the  plateau 
back,  of  the  old  Henry  house  blazed  with  musketry, 
and  were  soon  shrouded  from  base  to  peak  in  clouds 
of  sulphur-smoke  ;  and  then  the  little  dots  of  red  could 
be  seen  peeping  out  here  and  there  above  the  steadily 
advancing  lines  in  gray,  and  then  through  rifts  in 
the  smoke  they  gleamed  at  intervals  upon  the  slopes, 
and  ere  long  crest  after  crest  was  crowned  with  the 


60  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

crimson,  fluttering  folds,  and  old  Armistead,  trembling 
with  enthusiasm  and  delight,  could  plainly  see  that  the 
St.  Andrew's  Cross  was  gaining  everywhere  ;  and  when 
at  last  darkness  intervened  and  shut  the  scene  of  tri 
umph  and  victory  from  his  tired  eyes,  his  heart  welled 
up  in  audible  prayer  and  thanksgiving  as  he  clasped 
his  daughter  in  his  arms. 

"  The  Yanks  are  falling  back  behind  Bull  Run. 
We've  licked  them  everywhere,"  was  the  report 
brought  in  to  him  late  that  night  by  a  young  trooper 
who  was  riding  up  towards  Aldie.  "  I  saw  the  cap 
tain  just  before  dark,  judge.  He's  all  right;  he'd 
have  sent  some  message  if  he'd  known  I  was  coming. 
I  didn't  know  it  myself  until  just  afterwards,  when  the 
colonel  told  me  to  run  up  and  see  my  folks.  I  live 
over  yonder  on  the  Leesburg  road,  and  I'm  to  join 
'em  at  Fairfax  to-morrow.  Oh,  we  ain't  goin'  to  stop 
short  of  "Washington  this  time,  you  bet !"  and  the 
young  fellow  rode  away.  At  the  gate  he  turned. 
"  Say,  judge,  I  passed  a  wagon  down  the  road  a  piece, 
with  a  wounded  officer  they're  bringing  here.  You 
might  have  got  a  scare,  fearin'  'twas  Captain  Armis 
tead.  'Tisn't,  though.  Good-night,  sir;  good-night, 
Miss  Lucy." 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?"  asked  the  old  man,  turning  anx 
iously  into  the  house.  "  Lucy,  child,  tell  Hannah  to 
get  that  spare  room  ready  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
We'll  have  to  put  him  there.  Can  it  be  Falconer,  do 
you  think  ?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine  who  it  is,  father,"  she  answered. 
"Some  one  we  know,  undoubtedly,  and  some  one, 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  61 

probably,  who  has  been  wounded  near  here — though 
there  has  been  no  fighting  around  us  since  day  before 
yesterday.  Wait  here  and  watch  for  them,  and  I'll 
go  with  Hannah  at  once." 

Barely  ten  minutes  later  there  rode  into  the  gate  a 
sergeant  in  the  gray  dress  of  Stuart's  cavalry.  Dis 
mounting  quickly,  he  sprang  up  the  steps  and  handed 
the  judge  a  note. 

"  Judge  Armistead,"  he  said,  in  low  tone,  "  my  or 
ders  from  the  captain  were  to  return  immediately 
after  having  handed  you  this,  and  having  conducted 
a  wounded  officer  to  your  house.  Yonder  comes  the 
wagon,  sir,  and  there  are  two  boys  with  it,  who,  with 
the  help  of  Nelse  and  the  others  here,  can  carry  the 
gentleman  into  the  house.  Then  they  are  to  go  back 
with  their  team  and  wagon.  Have  you  any  message 
to  send,  sir  ?  I  shall  be  with  the  captain  by  morning, 
unless  our  people  march  all  night." 

"  Wait  one  moment,  sergeant ;  let  me  glance  at  this 
note  first.  Let  me  offer  you  some  refreshment,  sir. 
Lucy !"  he  called. 

"  Pardon  me,  judge,"  said  the  trooper.  "  Don't 
open  it  yet.  Wait  until  I'm  out  of  the  yard.  No 
refreshment,  thank  you,  sir.  I  must  go  at  once." 

The  wagon,  drawn  by  two  venerable  mules,  was 
slowly  coming  through  the  gate  as  the  soldier  sprang 
again  into  saddle  and  was  about  to  turn  away. 

"  But,  sergeant,  who  is  the  officer  ?  Is  it  Captain 
Falconer  ?" 

"  Judge  Armistead,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  would  do 
anything  on  earth  for  your  son.  He  knows  it,  and 


62  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

this  night  has  put  me  to  the  test.  You  ask  me  a  ques 
tion  I  cannot  answer  because  I  do  not  know.  I  do  not 
want  to  know — I  hope  to  God  I  never  may  know  !" 

And,  turning  sharply,  he  struck  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  rode  away  at  a  rapid  trot,  leaving  the  old  man 
and  his  pale-faced  daughter  standing  there  at  the  head 
of  the  steps,  dumb  with  surprise. 


VI 

MID-SEPTEMBER  bad  come  and  gone.  Lee,  with  his 
enthusiastic  followers,  had  crowded  the  Union  lines 
into  the  fortifications  around  Washington,  then  crossed 
the  Potomac,  and  found  himself  so  crippled  after  the 
desperate  battling  at  the  Antietam  that  he  was  com 
pelled  to  fall  back  into  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah. 
For  the  time  being  the  beautiful  sweep  of  country  be 
tween  the  heights  of  Centreville  and  the  gaps  in  the 
Bull  Run  Mountains  w^as  unobscured  by  the  dust-clouds 
of  heavy  marching  columns  or  the  smoke  of  thunder 
ous  battle.  Heavy  rains  had  roiled  the  streams  and 
bogged  the  Virginia  roads,  but  there  were  no  guns,  no 
heavily  laden  wagons,  to  stall  at  every  brook  or  ford. 
A  silence  as  of  desolation  had  settled  upon  the  land, 
for  all  the  fields  from  Chantilly  down  to  Manassas 
were  peopled  only  with  the  dead,  and  every  slope  and 
pasture  green  was  ridged  with  new-made  graves.  Over 
on  the  broad  plains  about  the  railway  junction  other 
freight-cars  had  appeared  among  the  blackened  ruins 
of  those  destroyed  by  Stuart ;  but  the  storehouses  and 
buildings  were  only  charred  stumps  and  scattered 
ashes  now,  and  the  white  tents  and  rude  board  shelters 
hastily  thrown  together  here  and  there  were  only  tem 
porary  resting-places  for  hundreds  of  poor  fellows 


64  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

whose  wounds  were  too  severe  to  enable  them  to 
travel.  Stuart,  with  his  bold  raiders,  was  over  near 
Martinsburg,  in  the  Valley,  watching  for  the  next 
move  of  the  Union  force  still  halted  on  the  hard-won 
field  at  Sharpsburg.  Every  now  and  then,  however, 
little  scouting  columns  of  Virginia  Cavalry  came  trot 
ting  over  through  the  passes  and  taking  a  look  at  the 
Union  outposts  in  front  of  Washington  ;  then,  scatter 
ing  here  and  there  through  the  country  roads,  they 
would  disperse  all  over  the  broad  valley  east  of  the 
gaps,  and  spend  a  few  hours  in  cheery  visits  to  the 
homesteads  from  Aldie  down  to  Warrenton,  bringing 
joy  and  delight  to  mothers,  sisters,  and  sweethearts, 
and  all  the  time  keeping  wary  watch  and  slipping 
away  just  too  soon  to  be  caught  by  the  Union  horse 
men,  who  were  sure  to  come  marching  out  from  Fair 
fax  in  pursuit.  A  strong  garrison  had  ever  to  be  kept 
up  in  the  fortifications  in  front  of  the  National  Capi 
tal,  and,  out  in  advance  of  the  earthworks,  several 
regiments  of  blue-jacketed  troopers  picketed  all  the 
roads,  occupied  the  neighboring  villages,  and,  to  use 
the  army  phrase,  "  covered  the  front"  against  surprise, 
and,  when  occasion  offered,  launched  forth  a  column 
in  chase  of  raiders.  And  so  it  happened  that  while 
the  main  bodies  of  both  armies  were  gone  long  marches 
away,  and  the  guns  no  longer  thundered,  and  the  vol 
leys  no  longer  flashed,  the  by-roads  and  the  fields  were 
often  gay  with  the  guidons  of  venturesome  detach 
ments  of  cavalry,  and  the  soft  autumnal  air  made 
merry  with  the  ringing  trumpet-calls  ;  and  one  day 
the  worn  and  dingy  gray  uniforms  would  ride  in  amid 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  65 

the  acclamations  of  farmyards  full  of  enthusiastic 
women,  and  the  next  the  doors  and  windows  would  be 
banged  shut  at  sight  of  the  fluttering  "stars  and 
stripes,"  then  carried  in  the  shape  of  swallow-tailed 
pennons  by  every  squadron  of  Union  horse.  Many  a 
lively  little  skirmish,  many  a  stirring  charge  and  chase, 
did  the  troopers  on  both  sides  enjoy  while  thus  having 
this  lovely  and  populous  section  of  Virginia  all  to 
themselves,  and  one  of  the  regiments  occupied  on  this 

genuinely  "  cavalry "  duty  was  the New  Jersey, 

Lieutenant  Kearny's  regiment ;  but  Lieutenant  Kearny 
had  not  been  seen  since  the  first  night  of  the  battle  of 
Second  Bull  Run. 

Long  since  the  reports  had  borne  his  name  as  "  miss 
ing."  Anxious  and  influential  relations  from  Trenton 
and  New  York  had  hastened  to  Washington  and  be 
sieged  the  War  Department  for  particulars.  All  New 
Jersey — all  the  Union  army — was  in  mourning  just 
then  for  another,  a  greater  Kearny,  and  in  the  shadow 
of  the  bitter  disasters  that  had  befallen  the  nation  it 
seemed  as  though 

"  The  black  shroud  of  that  night  at  Chantilly  " 

had  indeed  overspread  all  Union-loving  hearts,  and 
there  was  no  hope  anywhere.  It  was  some  time  be 
fore  even  senators  and  representatives  could  bring  the 
military  powers  to  energetic  investigation,  and  mean 
time  a  sorrowing  mother  lay  wellnigh  heart-broken  at 
home.  Three  weeks  of  vigorous  prodding  on  part  of 
the  Jerseymen  resulted  finally  in  the  utter  exhaustion 

of  all  information  to  be  had  on  the  subject,  and  left 
5 


66  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

the  inquirers  more  puzzled,  more  troubled,  than  before. 
The  last  seen  of  Mr.  Kearny  was  late  on  the  night  of 
the  28th  of  August,  when,  all  alone,  he  set  forth  on 
the  road  from  Haymarket  to  Thoroughfare  Gap  in 
hopes  of  finding  his  regiment.  In  less  than  half  an 
hour  the  picket  at  which  he  had  parted  witli  the  field- 
officer  of  the  day  was  alarmed  by  pistol-shots  faintly 
audible  several  hundred  yards  out  towards  the  west. 
A  few  minutes  later  a  platoon  of  Buford's  troopers 
came  clattering  in  to  inquire  what  it  meant.  They 
had  scouted  the  road  and  found  a  dead  horse  near  the 
brook,  but  the  horse  equipments  were  all  gone,  and  the 
assailants  had  probably  ridden  off  to  the  northward 
bearing  their  prisoner  with  them.  The  horse  was 
identified  as  Lieutenant  Kearny's  the  very  next  morn 
ing,  and  it  was  regarded  as  a  matter  of  course  that  he 
had  fallen  in  with  some  of  Stuart's  scouting  parties 
and  been  captured. 

But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  two  of  General  Stuart's 
staff-officers  were  among  the  prisoners  brought  in  to 
Washington.  One  was  Captain  Falconer,  of  Warren- 
ton,  who  courteously  answered  inquiries  on  the  sub 
ject  by  saying  he  was  captured  by  Lieutenant  Kearny 
himself,  at  the  close  of  the  fight  between  Jackson's 
men  and  the  Union  force  west  of  Groveton.  He 
could,  therefore,  give  no  information  with  regard  to 
the  matter.  The  other  officer  was  an  assistant  ad 
jutant-general  who  had  ridden  into  our  lines  near 
Vienna  in  the  rain  and  darkness  that  followed  Jack 
son's  dash  on  Chantilly.  This  gentleman  said  that 
every  prisoner,  without  exception,  who  had  been  capt- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  67 

ured  on  the  28th  or  29th  of  August  by  any  of  Stuart's 
men  was  brought  before  him  and  questioned  by  him. 
He  knew  that  no  officer  resembling  the  description 
and  photographs  of  Lieutenant  Kearny  had  so  ap 
peared,  and  he  felt  equally  certain  that  if  killed  by 
Stuart's  men  in  an  attempt  to  escape  capture,  Mr. 
Kearny's  death  would  certainly  have  been  reported. 
It  was  the  staff-officer's  confident  belief  that  Lieuten 
ant  Kearny  had  neither  been  killed,  wounded,  nor 
captured  by  Stuart's  men,  and  "  no  other  Confederate 
cavalry,"  said  he,  "  was  anywhere  along  that  road  the 
night  referred  to."  Confidentially,  the  Southern  offi 
cer  expressed  to  the  inquirers  this  theory  :  that  the 
lieutenant  had  come  suddenly  upon  a  small  party  of 
his  own  people  ;  that  in  the  darkness  and  confusion 
each  had  taken  the  other  for  the  enemy  ;  that  Kearny 
had  been  shot  and  killed  by  his  own  comrades  and 
then  borne  off  and  buried  by  them,  and  the  whole 
matter  had  been  concealed  for  fear  of  punishment. 
The  Jerseymen  were  still  persistent.  Finding  that 
nothing  definite  could  be  learned  in  this  way,  they 
were  advised  to  call  upon  a  certain  gentleman  once 
high  in  government  circles  before  the  war,  but  an 
avowed  sympathizer  with  the  South  in  the  present 
conflict.  It  was  more  than  half  believed  that  he  had 
means  of  communication  with  the  authorities  at  Rich 
mond  and  with  the  army  of  Lee,  enjoyed,  perhaps,  by 
numbers,  of  other  residents  of  Baltimore  and  Wash 
ington,  but  not  by  the  War  Department  of  the  United 
States.  Those  were  strange  times,  and  within  a  week 
the  Jerseymen  were  assured  that  no  man  answering 


68  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

to  the  name  or  description  of  Lieutenant  Kearny  had 
been  or  was  now  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  "I 
speak  advisedly,  for  he  is  a  prize  they  would  not  over 
look  in  Virginia,  where  Pegram  and  Eustis  are  not 
forgotten."  This  was  the  report  of  their  confidential 
adviser. 

And  so,  with  October  close  at  hand,  Frank  Kearny's 
name  was  spoken  as  of  one  who  had  vanished  from 
the  face  of  earth,  no  man  could  tell  whither,  and  more 
than  one  New  Jersey  home  was  filled,  for  his  sake, 
with  mourning  and  with  dread  anxiety.  Down  among 
the  cavalry  camps  in  front  of  Washington,  too,  they 
talked  in  low  tones  and  "  wondered  "  in  many  a  chat 
around  the  evening  fires  what  possibly  could  be  the 
solution  of  the  mystery.  The  regiment,  of  course,  had 
been  informed  of  the  theory  advanced  by  somebody 
that  he  had  been  killed  in  the  darkness  and  buried  in 
dread  of  punishment  by  his  comrades  of  some  scout 
ing  party.  This,  however,  was  promptly  and  indig 
nantly  denied  by  every  officer  and  man  on  scout  that 
night,  and  the  most  rigorous  cross-examination  and 
investigation  failed  to  discredit  their  statements  in 
the  faintest  degree.  The  affair,  thanks  to  Kearny's 
prominence  and  popularity  in  the  regiment,  as  well  as 
to  the  interest  kept  up  by  this  investigation,  had  be 
come  a  cause  cetebre  in  the  lines  in  front  of  Washing 
ton  ;  and  then,  little  by  little,  another  story  began  to 
be  hinted  at. 

There  had  been  from  the  very  outset  the  usual 
rivalry  between  the  few  cavalry  commands  in  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  speedily  followed  by  that  devil 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  69 

of  jealousy  that  seems  inseparable  from  human  nature 

in  or  out  of  the  military  service.    While  the New 

Jersey  gloried  in  Kearny's  soldierly  exploit  and  in 
Bayard's  handsome  compliment  at  Cedar  Mountain, 
there  were  not  lacking  men  in  other  regiments  who 
affected  to  "pooh-pooh"  the  whole  affair,  and  who 
strove  on  every  possible  occasion  to  belittle  the  par 
ticipants.  For  a  while  none  of  the  Jerseymen  did 
more  than  laugh  at  this,  it  was  all  so  harmless  and  so 
transparent.  But  in  the  long  evening  chats,  and  in 
the  leisure  and  "loafing"  hours  that  followed  the  Au 
gust  campaign,  some  sneering  remarks,  alleged  to  have 
been  made  by  certain  officers  at  brigade  headquarters, 
were  brought  in  in  that  inevitably  exaggerated  form  in 
which  such  things  are  always  told,  and  a  good  deal  of 
feeling  began  to  be  manifest  about  the  camp-fires. 
Most  of  the  officers  of  the New  Jersey  were  gen 
tlemen  by  birth  and  education  ;  nearly  all  the  old 
families  of  the  state  were  represented  among  them ; 
but  the  officers  of  a  cavalry  regiment  in  the  same  bri 
gade  and  from  an  adjoining  state  were  chosen  from  a 
very  different  class.  That  there  should  have  been  no 
affiliation  was  natural  enough  ;  but  the  Jerseymen 
were  utterly  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  innuendoes 
that  presently  reached  their  ears.  Finally  one  warm 
September  evening  there  came  an  explosion.  The  ad 
jutant  had  been  over  on  some  duty  at  the  headquar 
ters  of  the  general  commanding  the  defences  along 
that  front,  and  came  back  fuming  with  wrath. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  striding  in  among  the  group 
of  officers  chatting  around  the  colonel's  tent,  and  un- 


70  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

ceremoniously  interrupting  their  placid  talk,  "  I  have 
just  heard  a  story  that  reflects  on  the  honor  of  the 
regiment,  and  it  is  time  we  put  a  stop  to  this  sort  of 
thing.  We  have  stood  it  too  long.  It  is  my  belief 
that  we  should  run  down  the  author  of  these  lies  and 
hold  him  responsible." 

"  What  is  the  story  ?"  was  the  eager  question. 

"It  is  about  Kearny.  Those  fellows  over  in  the 
' Dunghill  Dragoons'  have  never  ceased  to  sneer  at 
him  and  at  us,  as  you  know;  but  to-day  Major  Mer 
rill,  of  the  staff,  told  me  that  one  of  their  officers  in 
formed  him  that  he  knew  from  indubitable  authority 
that,  so  far  from  being  killed  or  a  prisoner,  Frank 
Kearny  had  found  a  sweetheart  over  near  Thoro'fare 
Gap,  and  was  hiding  under  the  roof  of  her  home  at 
this  minute.  I  demanded  the  name  of  his  informant, 
and  he  gave  it  to  me  ;  he  said  it  was  a  story  that  we 
ought  to  know,  and  trace  to  its  foundation.  Captain 
Mullane  was  the  man;  you  all  know  who  he  is.  Now, 
who  will  ride  over  to  their  camp  with  me  to-night,  and 
bring  that  fellow  up  to  the  scratch  ?  By  Heaven  !  he 
must  prove  his  words,  or  swallow  them  !" 

Half  a  dozen  young  fellows  were  on  their  feet  in  a 
moment ;  but  the  colonel's  restraining  voice  was  heard, 
calm  yet  authoritative. 

"  One  moment,  gentlemen.  Resume  your  seats,  if 
you  please.  This  is  no  matter  for  impetuous  or  hot 
headed  action.  Of  course,  if  Captain  Mullane  were  to 
make  this  statement  to  one  of  you,  or  to  any  one  in 
your  presence,  I  could  not  find  fault  with  your  knock 
ing  him  down  on  the  spot — I  might  find  fault  if  you 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  71 

didn't  do  so — but  this  matter  comes  to  us  send-offi 
cially  ;  the  division  chief  of  staff  tells  it  to  the  regi 
mental  adjutant  as  something  we  ought  to  know. 
Captain  Chetwood,  Mr.  Stockton,  order  your  horses 
and  be  ready  to  go  with  me  ;  you  too,  Mr.  Adjutant. 
I  will  look  into  the  matter  at  once." 

An  hour  later  four  officers  of  the New  Jersey 

were  at  the  camp  of  their  comrade  regiment  and  in 
conversation  with  its  colonel.  As  a  result  of  their 
communication  Captain  Mullane  was  sent  for,  and 
presently  appeared.  He  started  and  looked  uneasily 
around  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  four  visitors  ;  but  it 
was  evident  to  all  present  that  he  had  been  drinking, 
and  was  just  sufficiently  under  alcoholic  influence  to 
be  ugly  and  truculent.  In  few  words  he  was  told  of 
the  story  laid  at  his  door,  and  asked  for  his  authority. 
He  stood  unsteadily  by  the  table  in  the  colonel's  big 
tent,  the  light  from  the  single  lantern  shining  full 
upon  his  coarse  and  bloated  features  as  he  looked 
scowlingly  about  him,  first  at  one,  then  another  of  the 
four  officers  who  were  grouped  in  silence  around  his 
commander.  Finally  he  spoke  : 

"  I  did  say  it,  an'  I  can  prove  it." 

"  By  whom,  sir  ?  You  can  have  no  personal  knowl 
edge  of  the  matter." 

"Well,  I  don't  care  to  get  any  friend  of  mine  into 
trouble,  and  I  don't  mean  to  betray  him — the  man 
that  told  me,  I  mean." 

"  Captain  Mullane,"  said  his  colonel,  coolly,  "  I  have 
had  more  than  one  ugly  matter  to  handle  in  this  regi 
ment  during  the  few  weeks  I  have  commanded  it. 


72  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

Your  reputation  as  a  mischief-maker  was  known  to  me 
before  I  accepted  the  command.  You  and  such  as 
you  forced,  through  your  political  influence  in  your 
state,  the  resignation  of  my  predecessor,  but  it  can 
not  touch  me.  Take  your  choice,  sir.  Give  me  in 
presence  of  these  gentlemen  the  full  authority  you 
have  for  the  scandal  you  have  set  afloat  at  the  ex 
pense  of  Lieutenant  Kearny,  or  go  to  your  tent  in 
close  arrest  under  charges  of  conduct  unbecoming  an 
officer." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  except  for  the 
stertorous  breathing  of  the  bulky  captain.  He  glared 
scowlingly  around  for  a  moment,  looked  furtively 
into  his  colonel's  impassive  face,  then  thickly  mut 
tered, 

"It's  a  letter." 

"  Produce  it,  sir." 

Again  he  looked  helplessly  around,  as  though  seek 
ing  some  avenue  of  escape,  again  glanced  at  the  unre 
lenting  form  seated  there  in  front  of  him,  and  finally 
began  fumbling  in  an  inner  pocket  of  the  waistcoat  he 
wore  beneath  his  uncouth  fatigue  "  blouse."  From  a 
bundle  of  dog-eared,  thumb-soiled  papers  he  selected 
an  ill-favored  sheet,  scrawled  within  and  without  in 
faded  ink.  The  colonel  reached  forth  his  hand  and 
took  it. 

"  Most  of  that  letter's  private  and  personal,  colonel," 
said  Mullane,  anxiously.  "Here's  all  there  is  about 
the  lieutenant  —  here  on  the  second  page,"  and  he 
pointed  with  pudgy,  shaky  finger. 

The  colonel  slowly  read  over  the  indicated  lines,  a 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  73 

look  of  deep  disgust  settling  on  his  fine  young  face. 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  signature. 

"  What  disreputable  character  is  this  correspondent 
of  yours,  Captain  Mullane  ?  Who  may  *  P.  Tierney ' 
be?" 

"  He's  a  scout,  sir,  and  in  government  employ,  with 
the  best  of  characters  from  General  Fremont." 

"  And  where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  You  may  retire,  Captain  Mullane.  I  presume  it  is 
necessary  to  assure  you  that  the  only  part  of  this  let 
ter  that  I  shall  show  or  read  is  that  on  the  second  page 
— which  you  say  is  all  there  is  referring  to  Lieutenant 
Kearny.  But  I  shall  keep  it  for  the  next  half  hour 
until  that  portion  has  been  copied  and  read  to  these 
gentlemen,  and — one  moment,  sir — let  me  say  in  pres 
ence  of  the  colonel  and  these  officers  of  the New 

Jersey  that  I  consider  this  story,  told  by  a  question 
able  and  intangible  character,  as  utterly  failing  to 
warrant  your  aspersions.  That  will  do,  sir." 

And  when  Mullane  was  fairly  out  of  earshot,  the 
young  colonel  once  more  conned  the  ill-written  page, 
then  read  it  aloud  : 

"  '  You  fellers  needn't  knuckle  under  to  them  Jersey 
shanghais' " — ("  I  do  not  reproduce  the  bad  spelling," 
said  the  colonel, interrupting  himself) — "  'they've  been 
blowing  about  being  so  high-toned.  I  can  take  'em 
down  a  peg,  and  here's  a  tip  for  you.  That  young 
feller  Kearny  is  no  more  dead  than  I  am,  and  no  more 
prisoner  than  you.  He's  got  that  to  tell  perhaps  when 
he  gets  tired  of  the  girl,  but  while  his  comrades  are 


74  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

scouting  and  fighting,  he's  hiding  in  his  sweetheart's 
arms  up  near  the  Gap.  Next  time  you  have  a  column 
out  that  way  run  in  suddenly  on  old  Judge  Armistead's 
place  at  Hopeville,  and  if  you  don't  find  him  skulking 
there  I'm  a  liar.' " 


VII. 

SEATED  on  the  broad  wooden  steps  of  the  old  home 
stead,  her  chin  resting  in  the  palm  of  one  soft  white 
hand,  her  clear  violet  eyes  gazing  thoughtfully  out 
over  the  wide  expanse  of  field,  forest,  winding  stream, 
and  tiny  farms,  all  enclosed  within  the  boundary  of 
those  distant  heights,  Lucy  Armistead  was  lost  in 
maiden  reverie.  Again  the  sun  was  sinking  behind 
the  wooded  crests  that  rose  in  rear  of  the  orchard. 
Again  the  shadows  were  long  and  dark  across  the  de 
serted  fields  below.  Again  the  white  walls  of  Centre- 
ville  gleamed  on  the  edge  of  the  uplands  twenty  miles 
away  ;  but  all  was  silence,  and  all,  apparently,  was 
peace.  Around  her  the  droning  flight  of  beetle,  the 
soft  chirp  of  wearied  bird  in  the  branches  overhead, 
the  flutter  and  subdued  cackle  of  the  hens  already 
roosting  on  the  slats  of  the  old  trellis-work  under  the 
piazza,  all  told  of  the  speedy  coming  of  night.  It  was 
growing  chill,  too,  and  her  thin  white  dress  was  far 
too  light  a  garment  for  the  evening  air  along  those 
shaded  slopes — and  yet  she  seemed  to  be  oblivious  of 
everything  about  her.  Even  when  Hannah  stepped 
out  upon  the  piazza  and  addressed  a  question  in  low 
tone  of  voice  it  failed  to  attract  her  attention.  The 
girl  stood  silently  a  moment,  looking  down  at  her 


76  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

pretty  mistress  ;  then  spoke  her  name — the  old  home 
pet-name — "  Miss  Lulie  !"  and  still  she  gave  no  sign. 
Hannah's  eyes  twinkled  with  a  knowing  look  ;  her 
white  teeth  gleamed  as  she  turned  away,  entered  the 
house,  reappeared  in  a  moment  with  a  shawl  in  her 
hands,  laid  it  gently  over  the  shoulders  of  the  white 
figure  seated  there  so  motionless,  and  carefully  tucked 
it  under  the  resting  arm  in  front.  Then  without  a 
word  she  was  turning  noiselessly  away,  when  Miss 
Armistead  seemed  to  rouse  herself  to  sudden  question. 

"  Is  he  awake  ?"  she  asked. 

Hannah  shook  her  head. 

"He's  been  awake  mos'  of  the  day,  an'  las'  night. 
And  he  asked  me  over  and  over  where  you  were,  an' 
if  you  wasn't  never  comin'  any  mo'."  There  was  a 
tone  of  decided  reproach  in  Hannah's  voice.  "He 
ain't  as  well  as  he  was.  He  was  gettin'  well  fas',  so 
long's  you  went  to  see  him  ;  but  'tain't  so  now,  Miss 
Lulie,"  she  continued,  finding  that  her  first  remark  fell 
short  of  the  intended  effect. 

Miss  Armistead  turned  sharply  away. 

"  Did  the  judge  say  what  time  he'd  get  home,  Miss 
Lulie  ?"  asked  Hannah,  after  brief  silence.  "  'Cause 
he  wants  to  see  him,"  she  added,  somewhat  indefi 
nitely. 

"I  hope  to  see  him  every  moment.  I've  been 
watching  for  two  hours." 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  Miss  Armistead's  sweet 
eyes  had  been  fixed  on  the  far-away  heights  of  Cen- 
treville,  and  that  her  father  was  expected  to  return  by 
way  of  the  mountain  road  at  her  back,  there  was 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  77 

something  in  this  statement  that  seemed  irrelevant  to 
her  handmaiden,  but  the  latter  wisely  refrained  from 
comment.  There  was  another  matter,  though. 

"  Miss  Lulie,"  she  said,  "  he  ain't  fit  to  ride  nohow, 
but  he  wants  to  go  'way." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  asked  Miss  Armistead,  after 
a  silence  of  several  seconds. 

"  He  said  so.  He  done  tole  Nelse  to  find  him  any 
kind  of  a  horse  or  mule,  an'  he  pay  him  well  when  he 
get  back  to  Wash'n'ton.  But  he  couldrtt  get  back, 
Miss  Lulie,  an'  you  know  it.  Dey  ain't  a  day  'r  a 
night  the  cavalry  ain't  all  around  yer,  an'  dey  get 
him  sure,  an'  he'd  die  in  Libby  less  'n  no  time,  Miss 
Lulie." 

Miss  Armistead's  fair  head  bent  lower.  She  seemed 
to  shiver  slightly,  and  drew  the  shawl  more  closely 
about  her.  She  would  not  speak,  however,  and  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  Hannah  plunged  down  three  or 
four  steps  and  fairly  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  her 
mistress. 

"Miss  Lulie  !"  she  broke  forth,  impulsively,  with  a 
sob  in  her  voice.  "Miss  Lulie!  The  judge  won't 
tell ;  he  ain't  a-gwine  give  him  up  now,  is  he  ?" 

"  Hannah  /"  exclaimed  Miss  Armistead,  with  horror 
and  indignation  mingled  in  her  tone.  "  What  can 
have  possessed  you  ?  You  forget !" 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  Mars'  Henry  wrote,"  wailed  the 
girl ;  "  I  know  he  done  tell  you  thet  nobody  mus'  find 
out  he's  yer,  but  since  you  quit  gwine  to  see  him  an' 
he  begin  talk  'bout  gwine  away — " 

But  Miss  Armistead  would  not  let  her  finish. 


78  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

"  Silence,  Hannah  !  Whatever  we  have  done  at 
Henry's  solemn  injunction,  we  have  in  no  wise  harmed 
our  country's  cause.  This  gentleman  was  powerless 
enough  when  they  brought  him  to  us,  and  probably 
can  never  again  fight  against  Virginia,  or  any  one. 
So  long  as  he  cannot  fight  against  us  there  is  no  need 
for  my  father  to  surrender  him  to  the  authorities  or  to 
speak  of  his  being  here,  and  he  will  never  do  it." 

"  But,  Miss  Lulie,  s'pose  dey  find  out.  What  makes 
'em  come  speerin'  round  yer  so  much,  anyhow?  Cap'en 
Falconer's  been  to  see  you  three  tim.es,  an'  it  seems 
like  he  'spect  something.  An'  twice  I  hear  'em  rus- 
tlin'  in  the  bushes  yonder,  list'nin',  after  dark.  I  see 
him  talkin'  with  two  men  down  the  road  day  befo' 
yisdy,  Miss  Lulie,  and  I  thought — " 

"  How  can  they  know,  Hannah  ?  No  one  but  Nelse 
and  you  knows  anything  of  it  outside  of  the  house. 
Captain  Falconer  is  here  to  talk  with  father  about  his 
brother  who  was  captured  over  at  Manassas.  He  is 
anxious,  and  it  comforts  him  to  see  father  and  talk 
with  him." 

"Miss  Lulie,  he  don*  come  yer  fur  no  such  talk. 
He  an'  the  other  Cap'en  Falconer  don'  never  agree, 
an'  anybody  in  Warrenton  '11  tell  you  so.  Judge 
Armistead  knows  it  too.  What  he  come  yer  fur  is 
t'  see  you,  Miss  Lulie,  and  he's  been  yer  every  chance. 
Why  ain'  he  with  the  rest  of  the  gen'l'men  up  with 
the  army  ?  He  jes  sticks  right  round  yer  all  the  time." 

"Captain  Falconer  and  his  squadron  are  charged 
with  important  duties,  Hannah.  They  are  posted  at 
Thoro'fare  Gap  to  see  that  the  enemy  do  not  get 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  79 

through  there  unless  they  come  with  heavy  force.  It 
is  his  duty  to  be  alert  and  active.  Every  week,  he 
says,  the  enemy  appear  in  greater  numbers,  and  it 
looks  as  though  they  were  planning  to  ride  over  into 
the  Shenandoah.  He  comes  to  consult  father,  too,  for 
he  has  great  faith  in  his  judgment." 

"Look  yonder,  Miss  Lulie,"  interrupted  Hannah, 
pointing  through  the  darkening  foliage.  "It's  the 
judge  coming  now.  I'll  run  and  call  ole  Nelse." 

But  before  the  servant  could  reach  him,  Judge  Ar- 
mistead  rode  in  through  the  open  gateway,  dismount 
ed  stiffly  at  the  steps,  and  threw  the  reins  over  the 
pommel.  Very  pale,  weary,  and  anxious  he  looked  as 
he  took  his  daughter  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  ten 
derly.  She  searched  his  face  with  wistful  eyes,  striv 
ing  to  read  his  tidings  as  she  led  him  slowly  up  to  the 
piazza. 

"I  came  back  through  the  camp  of  Captain  Falcon 
er's  men,  dear,"  he  said.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  that  one 
of  them  should  come  up  for  the  horse  to-morrow.  I 
— I  cannot  spare  Nelse  to  take  him  back,  and  yet  I 
could  not  have  gotten  over  to  Salem  without  him. 
It  was  very  kind  of  Falconer  to  lend  him  to  me.  Has 
he  been  here  to-day  ?"  and  the  tired  eyes  gazed  with 
deep  anxiety  into  hers. 

**  No,  father  ;  no  one.  Could  you  hear  anything  of 
Henry  ?  Did  you — succeed  ?" 

"  No,  child,  no,"  and  he  shook  his  head  sadly,  wear 
ily.  "I  can  learn  nothing.  I  can  collect  still  less. 
Even  if  we  had  money,  it  would  be  difficult  to  buy 
stores  now.  They  are  almost  as  scarce  at  Gordons- 


80  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

ville  and  Culpeper  as  they  are  at  Warrenton.    Every 
thing  is  needed  for  the  army.    One  thing  I  heard,  and 
I'm  afraid  it's  true,  Lucy." 
"What,  father?" 

"They  say  the  Federals  are  being  heavily  rein 
forced  over  there  at  Chantilly — everywhere,  in  fact, 
from  Leesburg  down  beyond  Centreville,  and  that  any 
day  now  they  will  come  out,  seize  the  gaps,  cross  over, 
and  cut  our  line  of  supplies  in  the  Shenandoah — reoc- 
cupy  this  whole  country,  in  fact.  Then  it  will  be  too 
late." 

"  Too  late  for  what,  father  ?" 

"To  get  away  from  here  and  go  to  Richmond. 
Lucy,  Lucy  !  Harry  never  dreamed  what  hardship 
and  danger  he  was  imposing  upon  you  in  sending  that 
poor  fellow  to  us.  I  had  planned  to  start  for  Rich 
mond  the  moment  we  heard  of  the  possibility  of  an 
advance.  Has  he  seemed  better  to-day  ?" 

"  I — I  have  not  seen  him,  father,  but  Hannah  says 
he  is  sleeping  now." 

The  old  gentleman  took  her  face  in  his  tremulous 
hands  ;  her  cheeks  flushed  and  burned  as  he  raised  it 
to  the  waning  light.  He  asked  no  question,  said  no 
word,  only  looked  in  her  moistened  eyes,  sadly,  wist 
fully,  anxiously. 

"Little  daughter,"  at  last  he  spoke,  "  so  long  as  he 
is  here,  helpless  and  bedridden,  I  must  stay  by  him.  I 
will  not  dishonor  Harry's  draft.  I  cannot  go  now  and 
leave  him  to  such  care  as  Nelse  could  give  him.  If — 
if  his  friends  come  this  way  and  find  him,  and  carry 
him  off  whether  we  will  or  not,  then  are  we  absolved 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  81 

from  responsibility.  But,  on  the  contrary,  should  our 
secret  leak  out  in  any  way,  and  our  people  insist  on 
searching  the  house,  he  is  gone,  and  Harry's  word  will 
have  been  broken.  If — if  he  were  only  able  to  ride  !" 

"  But  he  is  not,  father.  Hannah  says  he  has  been 
awake  all  day,  feverish,  and  seeming  worse.  lie  could 
not  ride,  Pm  sure;  and  then,  even  if  he  could  go,  every 
road  and  pathway  is  held  by  our  cavalry  as  far  as  the 
heights  across  the  valley.  They  all  say  so,  and  he 
could  not  escape.  He  would  be  taken,  his  identity  re 
vealed.  Oh,  father  ;  no,  no  !" 

And  she  clung  to  him,  hiding  her  face  on  his  arm, 
while  old  Nelse  came  hobbling  around  from  the  barn, 
and  quietly  led  the  horse  away. 

"  Then  listen,  daughter,"  he  eagerly  spoke.  "  I  have 
seen  Doctor  Loring  to-day.  He  will  leave  Salem 
for  Richmond  to-morrow  night.  Aunt  Nina  is  eager 
for  your  coming,  and  the  doctor's  daughter  goes  with 
him.  He  will  gladly  take  charge  of  you  and  see  you 
safely  to  the  capital  and  Aunt  Nina's  roof.  I  will 
stay  and  take  care  of  our  guest  until  he  is  safe,  then 
leave  the  old  place  to  care  for  itself." 

But  she  looked  suddenly  up  into  his  face  and  placed 
her  fingers  upon  his  lips.  "I  will  not  stir  without 
you,  father.  I  will  share  whatever  fate  awaits  you 
here,  but  not  one  step  do  I  take  until  you  too  can  go. 
Listen  !" 

"  What  did  you  hear  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment  of 
silence. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  hoofs  on  the  rocky  road  through 
the  pass — the  Hopeville  road." 
6 


82  BETWEEN  THE    LINES. 

Again  they  listened  intently,  but  all  was  still. 

"If  it  were  any  of  Falconer's  men,  or  any  of  our 
cavalry,  they  would  hardly  be  likely  to  come  through 
that  way  when  all  the  main  roads  are  open,  and  whom 
else  have  we  to  expect?"  But  even  as  he  spoke  the 
old  gentleman  gazed  anxiously  into  the  gloaming. 

"I  am  going  into  the  orchard  to  look.  "Wait  here 
for  me,"  she  said,  and,  light  as  a  bird,  she  fluttered 
down  the  steps  and  around  the  southern  end  of  the 
house. 

For  a  moment  or  so  he  waited  patiently.  The 
mountain  road  was  only  a  hundred  yards  away,  and 
there  was  still  light  enough  to  see  any  objects  that 
might  be  moving.  If  his  daughter  were  not  mistaken, 
and  shod  hoofs  were  actually  on  the  road,  'twas  full 
time  for  something  to  come  in  sight.  No  hoof -beats 
were  audible  to  him,  however,  and  he  was  just  turn 
ing  to  enter  the  hall  when  Lucy  came  running  back. 
He  saw  her  white-robed,  slender  form  as  it  suddenly 
reappeared;  he  had  hardly  time  to  wonder  at  her  haste 
when  she  flew  up  the  steps — wild-eyed,  pallid,  pant 
ing — thrust  a  little  scrap  of  paper  into  his  hand,  then 
clung  to  his  arm,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Read  it,"  she  said  ;  "  I  know  what  it  is." 

"  Who  gave  it  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"A  man — a  stranger — coming  through  the  orchard. 
He  said  only  these  words,  *  Danger  for  you  and  your 
visitor.  Look  out  for  the  cavalry  to-night,'  handed  me 
this,  and  was  back  in  the  road  in  an  instant.  Hear 
him  now  ! — riding  back  towards  Hopeville." 

Hannah  was  lighting  a  candle  in  the  hall.     By  its 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  83 

dim  rays  the  old  man  unfolded  the  little  scrap  and 
read  : 

" '  You  are  believed  to  have  a  Federal  officer  secreted  under  your 
roof.  Within  twelve  hours  search  will  be  made. 

"  *  VERB.  SAT  SAP.'  " 

"  In  God's  name,  whose  work  is  this  ?  What  man 
ner  of  man  gave  this  to  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"A  tall,  gaunt  man  in  ordinary  civilian  dress — a 
man  I  never  saw  before." 

"But  I'se  seen  him,  Miss  Lulie,  fo'  er  five  times," 
eagerly  exclaimed  Hannah  ;  "  he  was  yer  the  first 
mawnin'  the — the  lieutenant  rode  in,"  and  she  raised 
her  eyes  and  glanced  quickly  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
"'N'  he's  bin  yer  nosin'  round  twice.  He  done  tole 
me  he  was  on  special  work,  an'  he  hid  in  the  barn  cel 
lar  when  Cap'en  Falconer  rode  up." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  it  ?"  asked  the  judge, 
angrily. 

Hannah's  nervous  hands  plucked  at  her  apron  and 
her  face  worked  piteously.     She  faltered  and  could 
not  speak.     At  last  she  murmured, 
.  "He  said  the  Rangers  kill  him  if  they  catch  him. 
He  was  a  Lincoln  man." 

"  Some  spy,  some  skulking,  rascally  spy,  no  doubt !" 
exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  My  God  !  What  can  not 
rightfully  be  said  of  me  ?  I  have  betrayed  my  own 
people  !  I  have  been  false  to  my  state  !  But  it's 
over  now.  If  they  come  to-night  they  can  have  him. 
I  have  no  way  now  to  act — one  way  or  other." 

Softly  a  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  had  opened. 
Noiselessly  a  tall,  slender,  soldierly  form  in  the  undress 


84  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

uniform  of  a  Union  cavalry  officer  had  limped  to  the 
railing,  and  now  stood  dimly  revealed  in  the  rays  of 
the  solitary  candle  below. 

As  the  old  man  ceased,  and  dropped  dejectedly  into 
a  chair,  Lucy  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  and  clasped 
his  wrinkled  hand. 

"  Father  !  Father  !  You  forget  your  promise  to 
Harry  !  You  forget — " 

But  she  stopped  in  sudden  confusion,  a  crimson 
blush  surging  to  her  very  temples  as  she  sprang  again 
to  her  feet.  Half-way  down  the  stairs  the  tall  feeble 
soldier  had  stopped,  clinging  to  the  balustrade. 

"Judge  Armistead,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  weak  as  a 
wearied  child's.  "  I  have  been  waiting  only  for  dark 
ness  and  your  coming  that  I  might  say  farewell.  Never 
can  I  thank  you — and  Miss  Armistead — enough.  I'm 
well  able  to  ride  now,  and  go  I  must  this  very  night. 
God  grant  no  harm  may  ever  come  to  you  and  yours 
for  your  kindness  to  Frank  Kearny  !" 

Before  either  could  recover  from  the  surprise  occa 
sioned  by  this  gaunt  apparition  in  cavalry  dress  there 
came  the  shuffle  of  rapid  feet  through  the  dining-room, 
and  old  Nelse,  his  eyes  bulging,  his  gray,  kinky  crop 
of  wool  seeming  fairly  bristling  with  fear  and  excite 
ment,  rushed  into  their  midst. 

"  Fo'  Gawd's  sake,  niars'r,  hurry  !  De  Rangers  is 
comin'  up  de  road.  I's  got  de  horse,  suh." 

Another  moment — he  hardly  knows  how  he  got 
there — Lieutenant  Kearny  is  in  saddle,  clinging  feebly 
to  mane  and  pommel  as  old  Nelse  leads  the  troop 
horse  through  the  darkness  of  the  orchard  and  up  a 


Half-way  down  the  stairs  the  tall,  feeble  soldier  had  stopped." 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  85 

winding  pathway  behind  the  house.  He  is  only  cer 
tain  of  one  thing.  It  was  Miss  Armistead  who  whis 
pered. 

"  Guide  him  to  the  hut  at  the  old  lookout,  Nelse,  and 
stay  there  till  I  send." 


VIII. 

A  QUESTION  that  occurred  to  Judge  Armistead 
some  five  minutes  later  was  as  to  Nelse's  source  of  in 
formation  about  the  movements  of  the  cavalry — "  the 
Rangers."  No  sooner  had  the  old  negro  disappeared 
in  the  gloom  of  the  orchard,  leading  the  horse  by  the 
bridle-rein,  than  Miss  Armistead  and  Hannah  flew  up 
stairs  to  the  room  recently  occupied  by  the  invalid, 
and  were  busily  engaged  in  removing  every  trace  of 
its  recent  occupation.  Expecting  to  hear  the  tramp 
of  horses'  feet,  the  old  man  went  proudly  forth  upon 
the  broad  piazza,  intending  to  confront  his  accusers 
with  all  the  dignity  and  decision  of  his  race.  He  had 
felt  almost  ready  to  surrender  his  unbidden  guest  a 
few  moments  before,  but  the  idea  of  a  searching  party 
being  sent  to  his  house  instantly  roused  the  antago 
nism  of  his  nature  and  placed  him  on  the  defensive. 
For  years  he  had  lived  in  Virginia,  and  had  been, 
when  in  his  prime,  a  leading  lawyer,  and  at  all  times 
a  man  honored  and  respected.  Hospitable,  open- 
hearted,  open-handed,  he  found  in  his  declining  years 
that  he  had  laid  by  but  few  pennies  for  the  rainy  day 
that  was  so  sure  to  come  ;  and  the  education  of  his 
children,  and  the  liberal  allowances  accorded  them, 
were  only  made  possible  by  mortgaging  his  pretty 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  87 

home  in  Warrenton.  The  mortgage  was  foreclosed 
after  the  presidential  election  of  1860,  and  not  until 
after  he  had  declined  offers  of  help  of  every  and  any 
kind  from  most  of  the  moneyed  men  of  the  commu 
nity.  Henry  was  rising  in  his  profession  in  Richmond, 
they  said,  and  in  course  of  time  the  debt  could  be 
paid.  It  was  not  easy  for  the  old  man  to  say  no  to 
such  kind  and  earnest  offers,  but  he  was  proud  as 
any  of  the  Pharaohs,  and  it  was  his  one  boast  that  his 
word  had  ever  been  as  good  as  his  bond.  He  had  still 
the  old  farm  homestead  up  at  Hopeville  Gap,  that  had 
been  the  scene  of  the  romance  of  his  life,  the  home  of 
the  girl  he  wooed  and  won,  the  woman  who,  as  his 
loved  and  honored  wife,  had  made  sunshine  perennial 
at  his  hearthstone.  It  was  hard  to  leave  the  old  seat 
at  his  library  window  that  looked  out  over  the  peace 
ful  churchyard  where  she  lay  sleeping  the  last,  long, 
dreamless  sleep  ;  but  there  was  soon  reason  why  War 
renton  would  not  have  been  a  pleasant  abiding  place 
even  could  he  have  held  his  home.  When  the  spring 
time  came  Judge  Armistead  was  thankful  he  had 
said  no  to  the  men  who  would  have  opened  their 
purse-strings  in  his  behalf,  for  he  disappointed  them 
one  and  all.  After  fierce  debates  and  overheated 
oratory  the  ordinance  of  secession  went  through  with 
a  yell,  Virginia  cast  her  lot  with  her  Southern  sisters, 
and  to  the  very  last  moment,  with  all  the  earnestness 
and  eloquence  of  which  he  was  master,  the  old  lawyer 
opposed  it,  and  lost  caste  in  a  community  where  for  a 
lifetime  no  man  had  so  much  as  looked  askance  at 
him.  Once  taken,  however,  the  step  was  irrevocable  on 


88  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

the  part  of  his  state,  and,  true  to  the  doctrine  in  which 
he  had  been  reared,  the  Virginian  threw  himself  heart 
and  soul  into  her  service.  Henry  had  already  buckled 
on  the  sword,  and  the  judge  not  only  stinted  himself 
that  he  might  provide  liberally  for  the  young  soldier's 
needs,  but  sold  a  valuable  law  library  that  he  might 
contribute  as  liberally  to  the  equipment  of  the  troop 
in  which  his  boy  was  promptly  elected  cornet  before 
they  were  sworn  into  the  service  of  the  commonwealth. 
Nevertheless  there  were  not  a  few  people  who,  in  their 
enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy, 
could  not  forgive  it  in  an  Armistead  that  he  should 
have  opposed — and  strenuously  opposed — Virginia's 
severance  of  the  tie  that  bound  her  to  the  Union;  and 
Lucy,  his  sweet-faced,  gentle  daughter,  who  was  heart 
and  soul  a  secessionist  without  having  any  really  well- 
defined  idea  of  what  its  consequences  might  be — Lucy 
was  on  several  occasions  treated  by  former  friends 
and  associates  with  conspicuous  coolness  or  equally 
dangerous  warmth,  simply  because  of  the  stand  he 
had  taken.  Being  a  young  woman  of  no  little  spirit, 
despite  her  very  cordial  and  winning  manners,  Miss 
Armistead  had  resented  these  impertinences  with  im 
mediate  and  telling  effect.  From  that  time  forth  she 
"  would  have  none  of  them,"  and  there  was  civil  war 
within  civil  war  that  spring-tide  of  '61  in  the  lovely 
old  homes  of  Fauquier  County.  Perhaps  it  was  just 
as  well  that  they  moved  up  to  Hopeville  about  the 
time  the  news  of  Sumter  came,  and  all  the  South 
was  crying  through  its  journalists  and  orators,  "Jacta 
est  alea!  the  day  of  our  deliverance  is  come  !"  Lucy 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  89 

Armistead,  in  common  with  nine  tenths  of  the  pretty 
girls  of  Virginia,  had  little  doubt  that  it  would  be  a 
matter  of  but  a  few  months  for  the  brothers  and  lovers 
in  the  glistening,  gold-braided  gray  uniforms  to  march 
through  Washington  upon  the  populous  cities  of  the 
North,  and  wring  from  a  prostrate  government  the 
promise  of  future  submission  to  the  will  of  that  im 
perious  and  warlike  sisterhood,  the  new-born  Confed 
eracy.  That  McDowell  and  his  army  should  dare  ad 
vance  into  the  heart  of  this  sacred  soil  was  temerity 
of  the  worst  order.  That  he  should  be  overwhelmed 
with  panic,  disaster,  and  ruin  the  moment  he  ventured 
into  this  broad  and  beautiful  valley  was  simply  inevi 
table,  and  he  ought  to  have  known  it.  Lucy  never 
for  an  instant  imagined  anything  else  as  a  possible 
result.  She  had  not  done  wondering  at  the  abandon 
ment  of  Manassas  the  following  spring,  when  Jackson 
suddenly  reappeared  from  the  Peninsula  and  popped 
through  the  Gap  into  the  very  fields  whereon  the  year 
before  his  envying  comrade  pointed  him  out,  serene 
amid  the  storm  of  battle,  "  standing  like  a  stone  wall." 
And  now  what  did  it  mean  that  here  under  their 
roof  there  lurked  in  hiding  nearly  an  entire  month  a 
soldier  of  the  hated  North,  an  open  and  avowed  enemy 
of  their  beloved  Virginia?  By  all  the  laws  of  war 
he  ought,  despite  his  wounds  and  his  helplessness,  to 
have  been  turned  over  to  the  care  of  the  Confederate 
cavalry,  whose  squadrons  swept  by  the  house  the  very 
day  succeeding  his  sudden  and  most  unwelcome  ap 
pearance,  but  the  letter  borne  to  the  gray -haired 
father  was  one  he  could  not  disregard  :  it  made  even 


90  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

the  Yankee  officer  a  sacred  charge  in  their  hands,  to 
be  secreted,  nursed  back  to  health  and  strength,  and 
then,  if  not  actually  assisted  to  his  regiment,  at  least 
suffered  to  go  in  peace.  There  was  something  pa 
thetic,  too,  about  the  condition  of  their  unbidden  guest 
when,  all  unconscious  of  the  test  to  which  their 
boasted  Virginia  hospitality  was  being  put,  he  was 
landed  in  delirium  at  their  door.  Bruised  and  cruel 
ly  lacerated  when  crushed  under  his  wildly  struggling 
horse,  shot  through  the  side  and  through  the  sabre 
arm,  stunned  by  being  hurled  upon  his  head,  and  now 
burning  with  fever  and  moaning  in  his  fitful  dream 
ing,  helpless  and  dependent  as  a  little  child,  and  friend 
less  as  Jeanne  la  Pucelle  before  her  accusers  at  Rouen, 
he  was  lifted  from  the  straw  in  that  rude  farm-wagon 
and  borne  in  the  arms  of  the  negroes  to  the  room  set 
in  readiness  for  his  coming — yet  not  for  such  as  he. 
No  words  can  tell  the  father's  consternation  when  he 
read  Henry's  brief  but  most  urgent  appeal,  and  learned 
that  the  senseless,  almost  dying  man  before  him  was 
an  officer  of  the  Union  army  and  his  son's  once  inti 
mate  and  chosen  friend  at  college.  There  was  some 
thing  he  did  not  know  even  then,  but  that  Lucy  di 
vined  the  instant  her  clear  eyes  glanced  over  that 
strange  letter.  It  did  not  serve  to  make  her  one  whit 
more  kind  to  the  stricken  soldier.  Anywhere  else, 
under  any  other  circumstances,  she  could  have  turned 
from  him  with  bitterness  and  aversion.  She  kept  her 
brother's  letter  to  reread  from  time  to  time,  she  said, 
that  it  might  keep  her  steadfast  in  the  effort  to  do  his 
will,  and  whether  because  of  it  or  other  considerations 


BETWEEN  THE  LINES.  91 

which  she  would  have  been  the  last  to  admit,  she  had 
most  nobly  acquitted  herself  of  the  task. 

With  Hannah's  aid  and  that  of  their  old  cook,  and 
the  occasional  services  of  ISTelse,  with  her  father's  by 
no  means  trivial  skill  and  experience  in  the  cure  of  ill 
ness,  with  the  youth  and  vigorous  constitution  of  her 
patient  to  respond  to  their  united  efforts,  Miss  Armi- 
stead  was  soon  able  to  assure  herself  that  Henry's 
friend  was  on  the  high-road  to  recovery.  Conscious 
ness  returned  in  a  few  days,  the  fever  disappeared,  the 
wounds  healed  rapidly  ;  but  no  sooner  did  he  realize 
where  he  was  than  Lieutenant  Kearny  began  fretting 
himself  into  a  fever  again.  He  knew  that  in  giving 
aid  and  comfort  to  him  they  would  inevitably  bring 
down  punishment  upon  themselves,  and  he  implored 
the  judge  to  send  word  to  the  nearest  Confederate 
post,  and  let  them  come  and  take  him.  The  judge 
replied  that  it  was  impossible  because  of  his  promise. 
"  My  son's  word  is  mine,  sir,"  was  his  answer.  Then 
he  had  to  be  away  a  day  or  two  in  search  of  supplies 
in  the  villages  across  the  range,  and  in  those  days 
Lucy  found  it  necessary  to  sit  by  her  impatient  patient 
for  hours,  reading  to  him,  or  kindly  and  firmly  setting 
aside  all  his  arguments  as  to  the  course  he  urged  upon 
them.  He  could  not  understand  what  promise  Cap 
tain  Armistead  had  given  ;  he  could  not  understand 
why  he  should  have  promised  anything  at  all.  War 
is  war,  and  both  had  taken  up  the  sword  with  eyes 
wide  open  to  its  possible  fortunes,  good  or  ill.  He 
urged  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  see  the  letter, 
and  was  refused.  The  reason  was  not  therein  given, 


92  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

she  said.  He  asked  her  if  she  knew  the  reason,  and 
she  rose  and  left  his  bedside  and  affected  to  rearrange 
the  curtains  at  the  window  that  she  might  hide  from 
his  searching  eyes  the  blush  that  suffused  her  sweet 
but  averted  face. 

As  the  days  wore  on  and  her  manner  was  ever  kind 
and  grave,  he  chafed  inwardly,  and  contended  against 
the  fact  that  it  was  nothing  but  kind  and  grave :  a 
studied  kindness — the  professional,  almost  perfunctory 
kindness  of  the  hospital  nurse  who  day  after  day  min 
isters  to  the  wants  of  patients  who  must  be  coaxed 
and  humored  back  to  health.  She  seemed  fairly  in 
spired  in  the  certainty  with  which  she  learned  to  an 
ticipate  his  every  need.  She  forgot  nothing,  neglected 
no  item  that  could  add  to  his  comfort  or  promote  his 
recovery,  but  with  it  all  and  through  it  all  there  was 
patent  to  him  a  strange,  intangible,  but  positive  some 
thing  that  told  him  she  wished  him  to  distinctly  under 
stand  it  was  all  for  Henry's  sake. 

He  was  young,  brave,  gallant,  fair  to  see,  and  as 
health  slowly  returned  to  him  his  good  looks,  despite 
his  pallor,  seemed  to  come  with  it.  She  was  younger 
still,  sweet,  gentle,  graceful,  and  fairer  woman  never 
yet  had  he  set  eyes  upon — so  those  longing  eyes  be 
gan  to  tell  him.  Wounds,  weakness,  suffering,  sus 
pense,  danger,  and  anxiety  one  after  another  became 
forgotten  in  her  presence — merged  and  overwhelmed 
in  a  sweeter  suspense,  an  anxiety  far  more  potent,  a 
wound  that  never  yet  in  any  man  has  ceased  its  tor 
ment  save  at  the  touch  of  one  desired  hand,  and  never 
will.  Under  the  sloping  rafters  of  that  old  Virginia 


BETWEEN  THE    LINES.  93 

farmhouse,  in  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  that  white 
room,  fragrant  with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers  with 
which  she  daily  decked  it,  and  fresh  with  balmy  air 
and  sunshine,  she  moved  about  his  bedside,  or  sat 
reading  in  soft,  low  tones,  while  Hannah's  needles 
clicked  through  their  worsted  in  the  corner,  and  Han 
nah's  watchful  eyes  saw  what  her  young  mistress 
would  never  have  permitted  her  to  hint,  that,  with  all 
his  heart  and  strength  and  soul,  Lucy  Armistead  was 
loved  by  this  young  knight,  this  enemy  of  all  her 
kith  and  kin,  and  thus  that  he  was  doubly  her  prisoner. 

There  came  the  day,  as  such  days  must  come,  when, 
partially  at  least,  she  too  saw  it.  Then  followed  the 
estrangement,  the  neglect  of  him,  that  called  forth 
Hannah's  almost  tearful  plea.  Impulsively,  as  she 
was  rearranging  his  pillow,  he  had  seized  her  hand  in 
both  his,  all  trembling  as  they  were,  and  was  covering 
it  with  burning  kisses,  when  she  whisked  it  from  his 
grasp,  and  in  speechless  indignation  almost  rushed 
from  the  room,  utterly  spurning  his  plea  for  mercy, 
for  forgiveness — utterly  refusing  to  listen. 

And  this  was  still  the  situation  the  day  the  judge 
came  back  from  Salem ;  and  then,  despite  her  wrath, 
it  was  she  who  sent  him  to  a  place  of  refuge  which 
poor  bewildered  old  Nelse  would  never  have  thought 
of.  His  one  idea  had  been  to  convey  as  quickly  as 
possible  to  his  master  the  startling  tidings  brought 
him  but  the  moment  before  by  a  panting  colored  boy, 
who  had  come  full  tilt  across  the  fields  to  warn  his 
brother  "contraband"  of  the  coming  storm.  The 
veriest  chuckle-heads  among  those  plantation  hands 


<J4  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

seemed  to  have  been  gifted  in  those  days  of  their 
dawning  freedom  with  a  marvellous  quickness  of  per 
ception  and  a  fidelity  in  keeping  the  secrets  of  the 
"Lincoln  soldiers"  that  beings  of  higher  grade  in  the 
social  scale  might  have  envied  in  vain.  The  negroes 
who  brought  Kearny  to  the  homestead  in  the  gloam 
ing  of  that  autumn  evening,  the  few  servants  about 
the  farm,  all  must  have  known  it  was  no  Confederate 
soldier  so  mysteriously  received  and  guarded  ;  but  it 
was  not  one  of  their  number,  the  judge  could  swear, 
by  whom  he  was  betrayed.. 

Who,  then,  was  it  ? 

Standing  on  his  piazza,  Judge  Arrnistead  had  time 
to  decide  his  course  of  action  before  the  troop  of 
horsemen  came  clattering  into  sight.  Two  officers  at 
the  head  of  the  little  column  rode  into  the  yard  and 
straight  to  the  steps.  One  was  Falconer,  looking  pale 
and  grave ;  the  other  a  stranger.  It  was  the  latter  who 
dismounted  and  came  quickly  and  lightly  up  the  steps, 
but  his  manner  was  cold  and  haughty  when  he  spoke. 

"  Judge  Armistead,  I  am  Major  Gordon,  of  Rich 
mond,  and  I  am  charged,  sir,  with  a  most  unwelcome 
duty.  It  has  been  reported  there  that  you  are  harbor 
ing  an  officer  of  the  Federal  army  under  your  roof  or 
about  your  premises.  My  orders  are  from  the  secre 
tary  of  Avar  himself,  and  they  require  me  to  make 
thorough  search  in  every  nook  and  corner.  There  is 
one  condition  on  which  I  am  authorized  to  suspend 
the  search." 

"And  what  may  that  be,  major?"  asked  the  judge, 
with  bland  courtesy,  but  with  kindling  eyes. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  95 

"That  you  assure  me  on  your  word  of  honor,  in 
presence  of  Captain  Falconer,  that  you  have  no  such 
person  or  persons  here." 

"  I  give  it,  sir,  unhesitatingly." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  congratulate  mj^self  with  twice — 
thrice  the  joy  with  which  I  congratulate  you,"  ex 
claimed  the  officer,  with  sudden  change  of  manner, 
with  cordial  delight  in  his  eyes,  and  eagerly  extending 
his  hand.  "  The  story  was  scouted  in  Richmond,  and 
nothing  but  positive  orders — " 

But  he  broke  off  suddenly.  Something  in  the  up 
raised,  not  extended,  hand  warned  him.  The  judge 
had  more  to  say. 

"I  will  not  take  your  hand,  sir,  if  in  so  doing  I 
leave  you  under  any  misconception  of  the  case.  I 
have  given  you  my  word  that  no  such  person  is  here. 
Major,  you  have  simply  come  too  late." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  which  no  man  pres 
ent  cared  to  be  the  first  to  break.  Then  a  quick,  soft 
rustling  at  the  door  of  the  hallway,  and  Falconer, 
glancing  sharply  thither,  saw  Lucy  Armistead  turn 
suddenly  away,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 


IX. 

Major  Gordon  returned  with  his  small  escort 
to  the  railway,  he  went  a  much  mystified  man.  In  the 
discussion  of  the  instructions  which  he  had  been 
charged  to  carry  out,  much  stress  had  been  laid  upon 
the  integrity  of  the  old  Virginian,  who  had  become 
the  subject  of  injurious  report.  Despite  the  opposi 
tion  he  had  manifested  before  the  final  adoption  of 
the  ordinance  of  secession,  every  one  who  knew  him 
testified,  or  was  ready  to  testify,  to  his  devotion  to 
the  interests  of  the  Confederate  government  when  the 
war-clouds  rose  above  the  horizon.  No  one  at  the 
Richmond  War-office  could  trace  to  its  source  the 
rumor  of  his  defection,  but  it  came  in  such  a  shape 
that  it  could  not  well  be  disregarded — a  letter  from 
the  wife  of  an  officer  prominent  in  the  command  of 
General  Longstreet.  She  wrote  from  Warrenton  to 
her  brother,  whose  duties  kept  him  for  the  time  at 
Richmond,  while  her  husband  was  still  with  his  divi 
sion  over  in  the  Shenandoah.  She  had  known  and 
honored  the  old  judge  all  her  life.  It  was  "more  in 
sorrow  than  in  anger"  that  she  told  her  brief  story, 
and  the  officer  sent  to  investigate  the  matter  was 
charged  to  conduct  no  search  and  permit  no  intrusion 
if  the  old  man  gave  his  word  as  an  Armistead  that  no 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  97 

such  persons  as  represented  were  concealed  anywhere 
on  his  property.  This,  as  has  been  seen,  was  promptly 
given,  for  the  judge  well  knew  that  by  the  time  the 
troops  arrived  old  Nelse  was  half-way  up  the  heights 
behind  the  farm  and  beyond  his  little  bailiwick. 

Major  Gordon  had  felt  it  his  duty  to  inquire  who 
the  concealed  officer  was,  how  long  he  had  been  har 
bored  under  their  roof,  by  what  means  he  had  been 
spirited  away,  and  how  he  came  to  find  his  way  thith 
er  in  the  first  place.  Mindful  of  the  trouble  in  which 
he  would  involve  his  son  were  he  to  tell  the  story, 
Judge  Armistead  replied  that  the  only  information 
he  felt  it  possible  for  him  to  give  was  this  :  that  some 
negroes  whom  he  did  not  know  brought  a  man  wound 
ed,  bruised,  and  almost  dying  to  his  door.  After 
bearing  him  to  a  room  beneath  his  roof,  the  discovery 
was  made  that  he  was  a  Federal  officer.  "I  would 
not  have  turned  a  dog  from  my  door  in  such  a  plight," 
he  said.  "We  nursed  him  until  he  was  able  to  get 
up  and  ride  away  ;"  and  that  was  absolutely  all  that 
he  would  say  upon  the  subject. 

Warned  by  Major  Gordon  that  now  he  had  sub 
jected  himself  to  the  just  suspicions,  if  not  the  punish 
ment,  of  the  government  at  Richmond,  the  judge  sim 
ply  bowed  in  silent  dignity  ;  and  then,  when  the  ma 
jor  would  have  pressed  him  further,  he  slowly  and 
impressively  raised  his  hand  and  interrupted  him. 

"Pardon   me,  sir,  for  interposing.      Your  time  is 

doubtless  precious,  and  will  be  only  wasted  in  further 

questioning.     To  such  penalty  as  the  authorities  may 

decree,  I  can  only  submit.     Meanwhile  I  am  still  mas- 

7 


98  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

ter  here,  and  must  not  neglect  my  duties  as  host.  Per 
mit  me  to  offer  you  and  Captain  Falconer  such  re 
freshment  as  is  in  our  power  to  give." 

But  Major  Gordon  conceived  it  his  duty  to  decline 
the  tendered  hospitality,  and  to  inform  the  old  man 
that  his  imprudence  had  made  it  necessary  to  place 
him  under  surveillance  until  the  wishes  of  the  secre 
tary  could  be  learned.  Captain  Falconer  was  directed 
to  remain  with  most  of  his  men  to  throw  a  guard 
about  the  place  that  night,  and  assuring  the  captain 
that  he  would  request  that  another  officer  be  sent  in 
the  morning  to  relieve  him  and  his  detachment  of  so 
unwelcome  a  duty,  the  staff-officer  set  forth  upon  his 
return. 

That  night  and  for  two  days  that  followed  the 
Armisteads  were  under  guard.  Falconer  posted  four 
sentries  about  the  house,  whose  instructions  were  to 
permit  no  one  to  pass  in  or  out  until  he  himself  had 
examined  the  person  and  ascertained  his  or  her  pur 
pose  :  Judge  Armistead  was  to  be  confined  beneath 
his  own  roof. 

When  the  morrow  came  there  rode  into  sight  soon 
after  dawn  the  promised  relief.  It  consisted  of  a 
lieutenant  and  twenty  men  of  the  cavalry  command 
stationed  with  his  own  squadron  at  Thoro'fare  Gap, 
and  the  lieutenant  handed  Falconer  a  letter,  which 
proved  to  be  from  Major  Gordon.  In  it  was  full 
authority  for  the  captain  to  turn  over  his  duties  to 
the  officer  who  bore  the  missive,  since  he,  the  writer, 
could  not  ignore  the  extremely  delicate  and  painful 
nature  of  the  situation  in  which  Captain  Falconer 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  99 

was  so  unavoidably  placed.  It  was  distressing  to 
think  that  so  old  a  friend  of  the  Armisteads  should 
have  had  to  act  for  even  a  single  night  as  their  jailer, 
but  it  was  one  of  the  singular  fortunes  of  such  a  war. 
"  A  stranger  thing  than  this  occurred  to  an  ancestor 
of  mine  in  the  old  days  of  York  and  Lancaster  in  the 
War  of  the  Roses,"  wrote  the  major,  "  and  stranger 
things  than  this  might  happen  any  day." 

Then  he  went  on  to  say — and  this  the  captain  read 
with  close  attention — that  he  wished  it  were  possible 
for  Falconer  to  remain  at  Hopeville  at  least  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  until  the  report  of  the  case  could  be  acted 
on  at  Richmond.  The  lieutenant  was  somewhat  young 
and  inexperienced,  whereas  Falconer  knew  the  country 
and  might  be  able  to  learn  something  definite  of  the 
mysterious  Yankee  whom  Armistead  had  so  unac 
countably  harbored.  But  it  was,  perhaps,  too  much 
to  ask. 

Falconer  gave  ten  minutes'  thought  to  this  letter, 
and  wrote  a  reply  which  reflected  credit  upon  his  rep 
utation  as  an  officer  and  a  gentleman.  Debarred,  he 
said,  by  the  fortunes  of  war  from  accompanying  his 
comrades  of  Stuart's  glorious  corps  in  their  enviable 
march  to  Maryland,  he  had  striven  to  faithfully  and 
energetically  perform  the  duties  assigned  to  him  at 
the  Gap.  Nothing  had  given  him  such  pain  and  sur 
prise  as  the  admission  made  by  Judge  Armistead,  and 
no  duty  could  well  be  more  distressing  to  him  than 
that  of  commanding  the  guard  which  his  lifelong 
friends  could  not  but  consider  in  the  light  of  jailers. 
But  it  was  not  for  him  to  seek  relief  from  any  service 


100  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

the  state  might  require  at  his  hands.  Acting  under 
the  request,  so  delicately  and  courteously  conveyed  in 
his  superior's  letter,  Captain  Falconer's  sense  of  a 
soldier's  duty  prompted  him  to  say  that  however  re 
pugnant  to  his  feelings,  he  would  remain  at  his  post, 
at  least  until  further  instructions,  and  he  had  the  hon 
or  to  subscribe  himself,  very  respectfully,  etc. 

It  would  be  two  days  before  this  letter  could  catch 
Major  Gordon,  two  more  before  reply  could  reach 
him,  and  meantime,  thought  Falconer,  much  might  be 
accomplished  here  at  Hopeville. 

Except  that  fleeting  glimpse  of  her  as  she  darted 
back  into  the  dimly  lighted  hall  on  hearing  her  father's 
astounding  words  the  night  before,  not  once  had  he 
been  able  to  see  Miss  Armistead.  He  had  begged  for 
an  interview  with  her,  and  it  was  denied  him  on  the 
plea  that  she  was  too  much  distressed  to  see  and  talk 
with  any  one,  and  had  retired  to  her  room  for  the 
night.  The  judge  gravely  and  courteously  assured 
him  that  not  for  a  moment  did  they  misunderstand 
his  position  or  his  sentiments.  His  embarrassment 
and  his  voluble  expressions  of  regret  and  sympathy 
the  old  man  replied  to  by  earnestly  requesting  him 
to  think  no  more  of  the  matter.  A  soldier's  duty  was 
a  thing  too  sacred  to  be  made  the  topic  of  a  discus 
sion.  "  We  will  confine  ourselves  to  the  house,  and 
give  the  sentries  no  trouble  whatever,"  said  the  judge, 
"  and  you  must  consider  yourself  entirely  at  home." 
Hannah  was  ordered  to  prepare  a  room,  and  the  cook 
to  rebuild  her  kitchen  fire  and  serve  supper  for  the 
captain  ;  but  Falconer  protested.  He  could  not  tres- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINEL      \  \j 


pass  on  their  hospitality  so  long  #s  thi£ 
was  imposed  upon  him.  He  wo  did  sieJ6p"oh  the  piazza, 
or,  at  very  best,  the  sofa  in  the  hall,  and  spend  the 
hours,  so  he  wrote  in  a  little  note  he  gave  to  Hannah 
for  her  mistress,  praying  Heaven  to  bring  rest  and 
comfort  and  blessing  to  her,  and  prompt  relief  from 
an  intolerable  burden  to  him." 

But  as  he  had  not  been  able  to  see  her,  Falconer,  of 
his  own  volition,  decided  to  retain  the  "intolerable 
burden  "  until  she  granted  him  the  desired  interview. 

All  that  day  she  kept  her  room,  however,  and  Judge 
Armistead,  when  not  with  his  daughter,  shut  himself 
in  the  scantily  furnished  "  study  "  which  was  reserved 
for  his  particular  and  personal  use.  Lucy  alone  ever 
ventured  in  there  except  at  his  express  command  or 
invitation. 

Meantime  Captain  Falconer  had  not  been  idle.  He 
had  pretty  thoroughly  examined  all  the  sheds,  barns, 
and  hiding-places  about  the  premises,  persistently 
questioned  the  cook  and  Hannah,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  discovered  that  old  Nelse  was  missing.  He 
also  knew  that  the  horse  he  had  lent  the  judge  had 
not  been  returned  to  camp  up  to  the  time  the  lieuten 
ant  and  his  platoon  left  there  that  morning.  Hannah, 
from  an  upper  window,  watched  him  as  he  prowled 
about  the  barn  and  sheds  in  search  of  the  missing 
quadruped,  and  readily  divined  his  thoughts.  She 
flew  down  to  the  kitchen,  where  "  Aunt  Bell  "  was  at 
work,  and  breathlessly  warned  her  to  keep  out  of  the 
captain's  way  ;  he  would  be  sure  to  ask  her  where 
Nelse  had  gone  and  what  had  been  done  with  the 


*102  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 


.f  ;J\IejiniirKelhe  girl's  wits  were  actively  at  work 
to  devise  a  story1  that  'would  account  for  the  absence 
of  both,  and  one  that  no  one  in  the  house  would  gain 
say.  She  took  good  care,  too,  that  Miss  Lucy  should 
be  fully  and  minutely  informed  of  the  captain's  move 
ments,  and  favored,  furthermore,  with  her  own  inter 
pretation  of  everything  he  did  or  said.  This  was 
perhaps  unfortunate  for  the  captain,  as  in  every  case 
her  comments  were  heavily  charged  with  cynicism. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  sundown,  and  all  day 
long  the  inmates  of  the  homestead  had  been  speculat 
ing  with  varied  emotions  as  to  the  fate  of  the  fugitives 
of  the  previous  night.  Nearly  two  miles  up  the  ridge 
was  an  eminence  from  which  the  country  could  be 
seen  for  leagues  in  every  direction,  and  down  among 
the  rocks  below,  sheltered  by  thick  foliage,  was  a  lit 
tle  hut  which  had  long  been  deserted.  A  bridle-path, 
rough,  winding,  and  tangled  with  brier  and  under 
brush,  led  thither  up  the  mountain-side,  and  this  was 
the  refuge  to  which  Nelse  had  conducted  his  precious 
charge.  Never  dreaming  her  father  would  boldly 
and  frankly  proclaim  that  he  had  "  given  aid  and  com 
fort  to  the  enemy,"  Miss  Armistead  had  hoped  that 
some  time  this  day  she  could  send  food  and  blankets 
to  the  invalid  there  hidden,  and  have  tidings  of  his 
welfare.  The  sudden  catastrophe  of  their  being  de 
clared  under  guard,  and  so  shut  off  from  all  possibility 
of  communication  with  "her  prisoner,"  as  the  judge 
once  called  him,  well-nigh  overwhelmed  her  with  ap 
prehension.  She  sprang  from  the  couch  on  which 
she  had  been  lying,  and  hurried  to  her  window  with 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  103 

beating  heart,  therefore,  when,  just  as  the  sun  went 
down  in  the  west,  she  heard  the  stern,  sharp  challenge 
of  a  sentry,  and  a  call  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard. 
She  heard  the  rattle  of  Falconer's  sword  as  he  ran 
down  the  steps,  and  in  an  instant  Hannah  was  peering 
over  her  shoulder. 

There,  bowing,  smiling,  scraping  the  ground  with 
his  foot,  and  making  every  imaginable  manifestation 
of  respect  to  the  military  authorities,  stood  old  Nelse, 
cornered  in  an  attempt  to  run  the  blockade  through 
the  dense  shrubbery  of  the  garden. 

"Where've  you  been,  sir?"  sternly  demanded  Cap 
tain  Falconer.  "  Where  were  you  last  night  ?" 

The  two  faces  at  the  upper  window — one  so  fair 
and  delicate,  the  other  brown  and  eager — were  almost 
ashen  in  the  dread  suspense  of  the  moment ;  but  al 
most  instantly  a  gleam  of  joy  shot  over  one,  a  flash  of 
delight,  not  unmingled  with  incredulity,  gleamed  in 
the  other,  and  both  women,  Caucasian  and  Ethiop, 
were  shameless  enough  to  applaud  and  approve  a 
barefaced  lie. 

"  My  lawd  !"  gasped  Hannah,  "  dat  fool  niggah  got 
mo'  sense  'n  I  ever  thought !"  for  Eelse's  black  face 
was  luminous  with  truth  and  injured  innocence  as  he 
answered  : 

"  Ober  to  my  boy's,  suh — ober  on  de  odder  side.  I 
done  tuk  him  a  sack  o'  meal,  suh,  'n'  den  dis  mawnin' 
I  fotched  de  hawse  back  to  camp  'n'  gave  him  to  de 
gyard,  suh,  'n'  den  I  done  walked  all  de  way  home,  'n' 
I's  pow'ful  tired,  suh." 

Old  Nelse  had  raised  his  voice  so  that  every  word 


104  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

was  distinctly  audible.  There  was  a  story  for  Hannah 
and  the  cook  to  swear  to  !  Falconer  cross-questioned 
in  low  tone.  Nelse  responded  with  loud  and  hearty 
reiteration  of  his  statement,  and  then  humbly  inquired 
if  he  couldn't  go  into  the  kitchen — he  hadn't  had  a 
"nioufful"  all  day — and  the  captain  let  him  go. 

In  a  moment  Lucy  Armistead  and  her  hand-maiden 
had  seized  the  old  negro,  and  were  dragging  informa 
tion  from  him  piecemeal.  The  fugitives  had  reached 
the  refuge  in  safety.  Kearny  had  suffered  a  good 
deal,  both  during  the  rough  ride  and  the  night  that 
followed,  but  declared  he  was  doing  well.  Nelse  had 
left  with  him  every  scrap  of  the  food  Hannah  had 
hastily  thrust  in  the  saddle-bags,  for  when  morning 
came  the  lieutenant  told  him  to  take  the  horse  to  Fal 
coner's  camp,  in  order  that  the  use  he  had  been  put 
to  might  not  be  suspected,  coached  him  on  the  story 
he  was  to  tell,  and  sent  his  heart's  load  of  thanks  and 
blessings  to  "Miss  Lucy  an'  all  of  'em,"  as  the  dark 
harbinger  of  good  tidings  put  it. 

When  Judge  Armistead  noiselessly  opened  his 
daughter's  door  a  few  minutes  later,  no  answer  hav 
ing  been  given  to  his  knock,  he  found  her  on  the  sofa, 
sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 


"  There,  bowing,  smiling,  scraping,  stood  old  Nelse. 


X. 

THE  second  day  of  Captain  Falconer's  much-regret 
ted  tour  of  guard-duty  had  come,  and  for  a  man  so  pro 
fuse  in  expression  of  disgust  at  having  been  compelled 
to  assume  so  repugnant  a  charge,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  his  sense  of  duty  was  commendable  in  the  highest 
degree.  Even  while  volubly  damning  the  Fates  that 
led  to  his  being  left  behind  when  Stuart's  cavalry  were 
winning  new  laurels  for  themselves  up  in  Maryland, 
the  captain  kept  a  vigilant  eye  on  his  sentries  and  on 
all  the  occupants  of  the  house  who  appeared  outside 
their  rooms.  He  indulged  Judge  Armistead  with  an 
other  long  dissertation  this  morning  on  the  extraordi 
nary  freaks  of  fortune  that  had  held  him  in  the  back 
ground  on  more  than  one  stirring  campaign,  and  he 
showed  him  the  draft  of  a  letter  he  had  written  beg 
ging  to  be  relieved  at  once  of  his  detail  in  command  of 
the  outpost  at  Hopeville  Gap,  whose  principal  task  it 
was  to  hold  as  prisoners  in  their  own  house  a  man  of 
such  exalted  and  patriotic  character  as  Judge  Armis 
tead,  and  a  woman  of  such  rare  loveliness  of  mind  and 
person  as  his  noble  and  devoted  daughter.  As  the  fair 
copy  of  this  eloquent  appeal  was  not  found  among  the 
archives  of  the  War  Department  at  Richmond  some 
years  later,  it  is  possible  that  the  original  draft  was  all 


106  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

that  was  ever  written,  and  that  its  purpose  was  to  in 
fluence  no  superiors  in  military  circles,  but  rather  to 
create  an  impression  in  the  minds  of  those  who  were 
virtually  his  prisoners.  Falconer  hoped  that  the  judge 
would  tell  it  all  to  Lucy,  and  that  its  effect  would  be 
to  bring  her  out  from  her  room  ready  to  greet  him 
with  tender  and  sympathetic  smiles.  But  although 
the  old  gentleman  begged  him  to  come  in  and  take 
breakfast  with  him,  he  in  the  same  breath  remarked 
that  Lucy  would  have  to  be  excused,  she  was  feeling 
far  from  well  ;  and  noonday  came  and  not  a  word  did 
he  have  with  her. 

One  thing  had  occurred  during  the  night  that  caused 
him  not  a  little  speculation  and  anxiety.  Old  Nelse 
had  been  cautioned  to  sleep  in  the  house,  and  when 
Falconer  went  the  rounds  at  nine  in  the  evening  he 
saw  the  veteran  hostler's  gray  woolly  pate  bending 
over  a  dim  light  at  the  kitchen  table.  ^Aunt  Bell," 
the  cook,  was  making  some  little  dish  with  which  she 
hoped,  she  said,  to  tempt  Miss  Lucy  to  eat.  It  occurred 
to  Falconer  as  he  glanced  in  at  the  open  door,  and  met 
her  smiling  and  good-natured  greeting,  that  there  was 
a  rousing  big  fire  in  the  stove,  and  rather  a  lavish  out 
lay  of  various  provender  on  the  table.  He  was  suspi 
cious  of  everything  he  saw  and  heard,  but  feared  to 
jeopard  his  own  hopes  and  prospects  by  interference 
of  any  kind  with  the  internal  affairs  of  the  household. 
After  all,  it  might  only  be  the  customary  exhibit  of 
negro  prodigality  and  improvidence.  It  was  early  in 
the  war,  and  the  lessons  of  economy  and  the  scores  of 
domestic  makeshifts  that  were  learned  throughout  the 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  107 

Sunny  South  by  the  spring  of  '65  had  not  yet  begun 
to  vex  the  spirits  of  "  Aunt  Bell "  and  her  few  satel 
lites.  Warning  the  servants  on  no  account  to  attempt 
to  cross  the  sentry-posts  that  night,  as  his  men  would 
be  sure  to  mistake  them  for  spies  or  prowling  Yankees, 
and  shoot,  Falconer  resumed  his  rounds  among  the 
guards,  and  gave  strict  injunctions  to  the  four  men 
posted  about  the  house  to  permit  no  one  to  go  in  or 
out ;  then  he  visited  his  little  picket-stations  out  on 
the  roads,  and  came  back  to  the  piazza  and  his  soldier 
slumber  pretty  well  satisfied. 

And  yet  the  first  thing  he  saw  in  the  morning,  just 
after  daybreak,  was  old  Nelse,  hobbling  in  through 
the  orchard  with  a  basket  on  his  arm.  The  basket  was 
half  full  of  eggs  and  apples,  and  Nelse's  old  face  was 
"  chuck-full,"  as  he  would  have  expressed  it,  of  min 
gled  innocence  and  concern  as  he  listened  to  the  cap 
tain's  stern  interrogations.  Bless  his  heart,  said  Nelse, 
he  hadn't  "  done  nuifin,"  just  been  out  to  get  some 
eggs.  How  did  he  get  out?  Why,  "jes  walked" 
out.  Oh,  yes.  He  done  cross  the  sentry's  post,  but 
the  gentleman  was  busy,  and  he  "didn't  like  to  dis 
turb  him." 

This  made  Falconer  boil  with  wrath.  Nelse  said  he 
walked  out  at  dawn  'cause  he  wanted  to  find  where 
the  hens  were  hiding  their  eggs  ;  it  was  raining,  and 
the  sentry  was  trying  to  fix  a  bit  of  rubber  blanket  in 
the  low  branches  of  an  old  pear-tree  as  he  went  out. 
The  sentry  declared  he  hadn't  had  his  eyes  off  the 
kitchen  doors  and  windows,  and  that  Nelse  couldn't 
have  crossed  the  post  when  he  said  he  did.  The  cap- 


108  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

tain  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  solve  the  problem.  Down 
in  the  bottom  of  his  suspicious  soul  he  believed  that 
Nelse  had  been  out  most  of  the  night — had  gone  some 
where  with  provisions,  and  that  in  all  probability  the 
Yankee  officer  was  hidden  away  in  the  near  neighbor 
hood.  If  he  could  only  catch  him  !  He  determined, 
after  long  thought,  to  give  Nelse  another  chance  ;  to 
warn  his  men  to  be  more  alert  than  before,  but  to  feign 
the  contrary.  He  planned  to  let  Kelse  out,  but  to  fol 
low  him  with  one  or  two  of  his  best  troopers.  It  might 
be  done  that  very  night,  and  meantime,  could  he  not 
see  her  and  determine  for  himself  whether  she  had 
been  interested  in  the  care  and  concealment  of  the 
mysterious  Yankee  ? — whether,  indeed,  she  were  not 
interested  in  the  Yankee  himself  ? 

But  several  hours  before  darkness  settled  down  upon 
the  range  Captain  Falconer  found  himself  and  his  com 
mand  relieved  from  their  much-anathematized  duty, 
and  in  a  manner  not  at  all  expected,  at  least  as  a  re 
sult  of  his  "application"  exhibited  that  morning  to 
Judge  Armistead.  The  news  of  Lee's  ill  success  and 
his  retreat  from  Sharpsburg  to  the  Shenandoah  had 
put  a  damper  on  the  high  spirits  of  many  a  Virginian 
household,  and  the  Armisteads  at  Hopeville  were  as 
deeply  disappointed  as  any.  In  sympathy  with  the 
situation,  a  drizzling  rain  had  been  falling  since  very 
early  in  the  morning,  and  a  mist  hung  over  the  valley 
before  their  eyes,  veiling  the  distant  roads  and  fords. 
The  judge  with  his  spyglass,  now  of  little  use,  and 
the  captain  with  a  map  of  Virginia  on  his  knee,  were 
seated  on  the  piazza  discussing  the  probable  outcome 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  109 

of  the  present  campaign.  Moist  and  soaking,  the  fields 
rolled  away  down  the  slopes  before  them  ;  wet  and 
dripping,  the  little  patches  of  woodland  looked  black 
and  gloomy  through  the  mists.  The  road  from  Hope- 
ville  straight  across  country  to  Sudley  Springs  showed 
like  a  dun-red  furrow  here  and  there  between  the  fields 
until  shrouded  by  the  low-hanging  clouds,  and  nowhere 
along  this  cheerless  landscape,  outside  the  hedge  with 
in  which  the  detachment  was  encamped,  was  a  living 
object  in  sight.  Nevertheless  old  Hector,  the  New 
foundland,  lifted  his  head  at  times,  pricked  up  his  ears, 
and  gazed  attentively  eastward.  About  two  o'clock 
he  sprang  up  from  the  mat  near  his  master's  chair, 
waddled  down  the  steps,  and  trotted  briskly  out  to  the 
road  in  front.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  Hannah 
came  fluttering  down  from  the  second  story,  hesitated 
a  moment  at  sight  of  Falconer,  then,  never  interrupting 
the  talk  of  the  two  gentlemen,  she  sought  to  carry 
away  the  spyglass  without  attracting  her  master's  at 
tention  ;  but  the  captain  checked  her.  "  Don't  take 
it  away,  Hannah  ;  we  may  want  to  use  it,"  he  said. 

"  Miss  Lucy  asked  for  it  just  a  minute,"  stammered 
the  girl.  "She  wants  to  see  something." 

Falconer  sprang  up  and  keenly  scrutinized  the  misty 
line  of  road  stretching  away  across  the  lowlands. 
Something  in  the  girl's  eager  face  made  him  suspicious 
of  coming  danger.  Something  in  his  manner  as  he 
suddenly  took  the  glass  and  adjusted  it  attracted  the 
immediate  attention  of  the  judge.  There  was  an  un 
mistakable  quiver  and  tremulousness  about  the  cap 
tain's  hand  ;  there  was  a  paler  shade  about  his  cheeks. 


110  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

It  made  him.  think,  all  in  an  instant,  of  little  hints  that 
had  been  let  drop  from  time  to  time,  of  certain  im 
pressions  he  had  received  —  vague,  shadowy,  and  in 
tangible  as — as  those  mist-veiled  objects  flitting  like 
ghosts  along  the  edge  of  the  forest  yonder,  yet  as  posi 
tively  pictured  in  his  brain.  It  reminded  him  of  a 
reluctant  expression  once  drawn  from  the  lips  of  his 
son,  a  man  who  never  condemned  without  good  and 
sufficient  reason.  "  There  is  wide  difference  between 
the  soldierly  qualities  of  the  two  Falconers.  Wayne, 
the  elder,  is  born  to  rise  to  high  command,  or  fall  in 
the  attempt."  But  this  was  not  Wayne.  He  had  gone 
down  before  the  fire  of  the  Western  brigade  on  the 
night  of  Gainesville,  and  was  now  languishing  in  a 
Northern  prison.  This  was  Scott,  the  younger,  and 
what  he  saw  through  that  glass  was  not  a  pleasant  sight. 
Those  pallid,  ghostly,  dripping  figures  were  dragoons 
in  long  overcoats  or  rubber  ponchos,  and  coming  this 
way — the  advance  guard,  beyond  question,  of  heavier 
forces  in  their  rear. 

"To  horse,  men  !  To  horse  !"  he  shouted.  "Sound, 
there,  bugler,  and  be  quick  about  it !"  Then  down  the 
steps  he  ran  and  around  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  where 
his  own  horse  and  orderly  were  sheltered  at  the  barn. 

Quick,  from  under  the  piazza,  from  the  shelter  of 
the  little  fruit-trees,  from  a  dozen  nooks  and  corners, 
the  gray-jacketed  Rangers  leaped  into  view;  belts,  car 
bine  slings,  spurs,  gauntlets,  were  hurriedly  donned, 
bridles  and  saddles  were  whipped  from  the  low  limbs 
of  the  shade-trees,  or  dragged  from  under  the  bushes, 
and,  all  bustle,  excitement,  energy,  and  spirit,  the  little 


Falconer  sprang  up  and  keenly  scrutinized  the  misty  line  of  road" 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  Ill 

detachment  rushed  for  its  horses,  and  presently  man 
after  man  came  trotting  out  to  the  roadway  in  front, 
and  the  ranks  were  rapidly  formed  by  their  young  ser 
geant.  All  athrill  with  martial  enthusiasm  by  this 
time,  the  judge  was  standing  on  the  piazza  shouting 
encouragement  and  applause.  Lucy,  breathless  with 
kindred  emotion,  had  hastened  down  and  was  clinging 
to  his  side.  The  captain  came  riding  around  from  the 
barn,  and  at  sight  of  her  straightened  gallantly  up  in 
his  saddle  and  gave  her  a  soldier's  salute  with  his 
gauntlet ;  then,  as  though  sudden  impulse  possessed 
him,  reined  about  and  rode  to  the  foot  of  the  steps.  "  It 
is  an. advance  in  force,  I  doubt  not,  Miss  Lucy,  and 
there  are  fifty  times  our  number  in  our  front,  but  the 
Warrenton  Rangers  will  glory  in  showing  you  their 
mettle.  Some  one  has  betrayed  to  them  the  presence 
of  my  little  outpost  here,  and  they  hope  to  cut  us  off. 
We'll  cut  our  way  through." 

"Well,  but,  captain,  suggested  the  judge,  "there 
don't  seem  to  be  many  of  them  as  yet.  You  can  easily 
slip  back  here  through  the  Gap,  and  get  around  to 
your  comrades  in  that  way.  Why  do  you  think  there 
are  so  many  ?" 

"  They  would  not  venture  this  far  except  in  strong 
force.  No  doubt,  if  we  could  only  see,  the  whole 
country  in  front  of  Thoro'fare  is  filled  with  them.  If 
it  is  so,  then  we  may  have  to  fall  back  through  Hope- 
ville  ;  but  my  Rangers  never  yet  went  back  except  be 
fore  overwhelming  odds.  Ready  ?"  he  asked,  as  the 
lieutenant  rode  up  with  soldierly  salute. 

"  All  ready,  captain." 


112  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

"  Very  well.  You  take  your  platoon  from  the  right 
and  trot  out  and  check  those  fellows  till  we  see  what 
they're  made  of." 

All  eagerness  and  spirit,  the  young  soldier  obeyed. 
He  was  a  Virginia  boy,  brave  as  they  make  them,  and 
it  was  his  first  chance  ;  his  cheek  flushed,  his  eye  kin 
dled  as  he  glanced  up  one  moment  at  Miss  Armistead's 
glowing  face.  Her  beauty  seemed  to  inspire  him  with 
double  rage  for  battle.  Never  heeding  or  listening  to 
the  captain's  promise  to  "  support  him,"  he  struck  spurs 
to  his  charger,  wheeled  short  about,  and  clattered  out 
to  the  impatient  troop.  Another  moment  he  and  the 
platoon  had  disappeared  among  the  trees  down  the 
road  to  the  right. 

The  rain  seemed  holding  up.  The  clouds  to  the 
west  were  breaking,  and  presently,  as  Falconer  bowed 
low  over  the  pommel  and  rode  out  to  his  men,  the 
watchers  on  the  piazza  saw  that  the  sunbeams  were 
bursting  here  and  there  in  brilliant  little  shafts  of  gold 
through  the  drifting  veil.  One  of  these  broad  shafts 
of  glistening  color  fell  full  on  that  dun -red  furrow 
crossing  the  valley  eastward,  and  then  the  shadowy, 
spectral  horsemen  a  mile  away  stood  forth  in  bold  re 
lief.  Ay !  there  were  the  pale  blue  capes  of  the  cav 
alry  overcoats.  There  in  their  midst  fluttered  the 
little  guidon — the  stars  and  stripes  in  miniature.  In 
front  of  them,  well  out  across  the  fields,  rode  wary 
troopers  peering  into  the  bridle-paths  and  wood  roads, 
watchful  against  surprise.  Behind  them,  several  hun 
dred  yards,  covering  the  road  until  it  disappeared 
among  the  distant  woods,  marched  a  compact  column 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  113 

of  cavalry.  No  man  could  say  how  many  more  there 
were.  Those  in  sight  were  enough  to  swallow  alive, 
the  soldiers  said,  the  little  detachment  sent  down  to 
challenge  and  check  them. 

Too  late  now  !  Young  Virginia  has  received  his 
orders,  disappeared,  and  though  Falconer  has  time  to 
send  a  sergeant  at  the  gallop  to  recall  the  youngster, 
and  though  he  himself  promptly  moves  his  troop  by 
the  right  flank,  he  gets  no  farther  than  the  crossing  of 
the  Hopeville  road.  The  Armisteads  believe  he  has 
gone  to  the  support  of  his  subaltern  as  he  promised, 
but  it  seems  not. 

All  of  a  sudden,  down  at  the  front  they  see  commo 
tion  among  those  leading  and  widely  dispersed  troop 
ers.  Then  that  they  are  opening  fire  ;  then  whirling 
about  and  scurrying  for  protection.  Then  the  next 
thing  that  comes  into  view  is  a  dark  line,  a  little  party 
of  horsemen  following  a  single  leader,  and,  all  unsup 
ported,  all  undaunted  by  the  odds  against  them,  down 
the  road  they  go  in  headlong  charge.  Twenty  Vir 
ginians  dashing  recklessly  into  the  teeth  of  an  advanc 
ing  regiment.  There  is  one  moment  of  wild  yells,  of 
sputtering  hoofs,  of  stirring  trumpet  calls  ;  the  horse 
men  are  all  intermingled  in  a  surging  mass  in  the 
muddy  road,  and  then  the  whole  Federal  column  seems 
to  take  the  trot  and  sweep  resistlessly  forward.  Four 
or  five  dingy  gray  jackets  and  plumed  felt  hats  come 
riding  lamely  back,  pursued  by  a  score  of  sabres  or 
popping  revolvers,  and  the  young  Virginian  has  car 
ried  out,  according  to  the  best  of  his  inexperienced 
ideas  on  the  subject,  the  captain's  orders  to  "  check 
8 


114  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

those  fellows  " — but  he  may  look  in  vain  for  the  prom 
ised  supports.  Falconer  has  seen  enough  of  the  fight 
to  warrant  him  in  a  rapid  trot  through  Hopeville  Pass, 
and  the  household  at  the  homestead  has  no  longer  a 
jailer. 

A  riderless  horse  comes  galloping  up  the  road  and 
into  the  gate.  No  one  knows  to  whom  he  belongs, 
but  old  Nelse  is  on  hand  and  speedily  leads  him  around 
to  the  barn. 


XL 

FOR  nearly  two  hours  that  afternoon  there  was 
clamor  and  scurry  down  the  range.  Several  squad 
rons  of  Union  cavalry,  at  rapid  trot,  swept  through 
the  mountain  road  below  the  homestead,  their  trum 
pets  echoing  their  liveliest  peals  among  the  rocky 
heights,  but  the  main  body  seemed  to  concentrate  on 
Thoro'fare,  where  vehement  defence  was  made,  and 
where  charge  after  charge  was  necessary  before  the 
Gap  was  carried.  The  sun  had  come  out  warm  and 
clear,  and,  unable  to  restrain  his  desire  to  see  all  that 
could  be  seen,  and  anxious  to  learn  the  fate  of  the  lit 
tle  platoon  of  Virginians  who  had  so  daringly  chal 
lenged  the  advancing  host,  the  judge  took  his  cano 
and  trudged  sturdily  forth,  announcing  his  intention 
of  going  down  to  the  field  below  the  heights,  where 
some  burial  parties  could  be  seen  at  work.  It  was  al 
most  sunset  when  the  sound  of  distant  firing  and  cheers 
and  trumpet  calls  at  last  died  away  in  the  south  ;  the 
clouds  lifted  from  the  valley,  and  the  roofs  and  walls 
of  far-away  villages  and  hamlets  gleamed  in  the  radi 
ance  of  the  declining  orb,  or  blushed  in  the  glow  of 
the  reddening  skies.  Lucy  Armistead  leaned  against 
the  old  white  balustrade,  looking  out  once  more  upon 
the  gorgeous  panorama  of  the  broad  valley,  lovelier 


116  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

than  ever  after  its  long  immersion  in  the  rain-clouds. 
All  seemed  still  and  peaceful  again  except  the  sight  of 
those  pygmy  parties  digging  shallow  little  trenches 
down  there  in  the  fields.  Nearly  two  hours  had  her 
father  been  gone,  and  she  was  beginning  to  feel  strange 
ly  nervous  and  ill  at  ease.  She  had  sent  for  Nelse,  but 
Nelse  had  disappeared  ;  so  had  the  horse ;  and  some 
thing  told  her  that  he  had  gone  to  their  late  guest  and 
patient — that  if  possible  he  would!  bring  him  back.  All 
day  long  her  heart  had  been  filled  with  wretched  anx 
iety.  Nelse  had,  indeed,  succeeded  during  the  night 
in  running  the  blockade  and  carrying  food  and  blank 
ets  to  the  fugitive,  but  he  brought  back  word  that  he 
seemed  "porely,"  and  had  evidently  suffered  severely. 
For  nearly  a  month  he  had  been  her  helpless  and  de 
pendent  charge.  To  her  nursing  and  care  and  cease 
less  attention  he  owed  perhaps  his  life  itself — he  had 
not  hesitated  to  say  so ;  he  had  done  more — he  had 
striven  to  assure  her  that  everything  life  might  bring 
to  him — fortune,  fame,  honor — all  the  depth  and  devo 
tion  of  his  love  he  would  lay  at  her  feet ;  but  she  had 
almost  rudely  checked — she  would  not  listen  to  him. 

And  now  his  friends  and  comrades  were  here  in  force, 
and  soon  must  come  to  claim  their  own.  No  longer  was 
he  hers  to  do  with  as  she  chose.  Henry's  once  inti 
mate  and  confidential  friend,  he  had  been  intrusted  to 
her  care  when  life  and  liberty  were  the  forfeit  of  her 
lack  of  vigilance.  Whatever  had  been  the  cause  of 
the  estrangement  that  had  arisen  between  them  in  their 
college  days,  the  brother  had  assured  her  that  the  feud 
was  ignored  when  they  met  at  Richmond,  and  now,  at 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  117 

the  possible  cost  of  his  commission  in  the  service,  he 
had  snatched  the  wounded  soldier  from  the  jaws  of 
captivity  and  hidden  him  under  the  refuge  of  his 
father's  roof.  There,  well  her  woman's  heart  assured 
her,  Henry's  friend  became  her  lover  ;  he  who  sought 
the  defeat  and  downfall  of  her  people  would  have  won 
her  for  his  wife.  Tremblingly,  in  one  brief  interview 
before  he  was  spirited  away  in  the  blackness  of  the 
night,  he  had  begged  her  pardon  for  the  kisses  he 
rained  upon  her  hand,  but  told  her  it  was  love  that 
drove  him  mad — and  she  would  hear  no  more. 

Twilight  came  ;  then  hoof -beats  and  voices  down 
the  road ;  the  jingle  of  scabbards  and  a  trumpet  call. 
Another  little  column  of  Union  cavalry  turned  into 
the  winding  Pass  and  went  clattering  up  the  Gap. 
Silence  again,  and  then  a  halting,  feeble  footfall  in 
the  darkening  hallway  behind  her.  Her  little  hands 
clasped  tightly  round  the  railing ;  her  heart  seemed 
to  stand  still  one  instant,  then  to  beat  tumultuously. 
She  knew  it  must  be  Kearny  —  returned  to  her  once 
more. 

Slowly,  painfully  he  reached  the  threshold,  and  stood 
there  leaning  against  the  doorway,  irresolute,  gazing 
at  her  with  all  his  heart  in  his  eyes.  At  first  she  could 
not — at  last  she  had  to — turn  and  greet  him,  for  his 
silence  frightened  her.  One  glance  at  his  face  and  she 
almost  sprang  to  his  side. 

"  Oh,  how  you  must  have  suffered  !  Sit  here,"  she 
said,  rapidly  drawing  towards  him  the  judge's  easy- 
chair.  "  No.  Sit  down  !"  she  insisted,  as  he  held 
back  and  tried  to  speak.  With  her  own  hand  she  half 


118  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

guided,  half  supported  him  until,  obeying  her,  he  sank 
exhausted  into  the  seat.  Then  she  hastened  to  her 
father's  study,  and  presently  reappeared  with  a  goblet 
in  her  hand.  "  Drink,"  she  said,  and  held  it  to  his 
lips  until  he  had  drained  the  last  drop. 

"  Is  that  my  stirrup-cup  ?"  at  last  he  questioned, 
smiling  faintly. 

"  Your  friends  are  here,  or  all  around  here,  as  you 
doubtless  know,  but  you  are  in  no  condition  to  travel. 
Father  will  insist  that  you  remain  until  you  are." 

"  My  regiment  is  among  those  fellows  somewhere  ; 
and  even  were  they  not  here  I  could  no  longer  stay. 
Even  were  I  able  to  send  word  at  once  to  those  who 
are  doubtless  mourning  me  at  home,  I  would  not  spend 
another  night  under  this  roof,  even  though  in  going  I 
offended  so  courteous  a  gentleman  as  your  father. 
You  alone  have  power  to  bid  me  go  or  stay,  and  you 
have  shown  me  all  too  plainly  that  my  presence  here  is 
most  distressing  to  you." 

She  was  standing  there  before  him,  a  light  mantle 
wrapped  about  her  shoulders.  She  was  looking  far 
away.  She  could  not  trust  herself  to  gaze  down  into 
the  pleading  eyes  uplifted  to  her  face.  His  faltering 
accents,  the  piteous  weakness  of  his  voice,  were  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  go  until  you  are  well,"  at 
last  she  murmured. 

"  Ah  !  That  is  where  it  hurts,"  he  broke  forth,  im 
pulsively.  "  That  is  woman's  compassion — pity — for 
mere  physical  suffering.  You  would  have  me  stay 
until  strength  returns  to  muscle  and  limb.  I  would 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  119 

have  you  bid  me  stay  forever,  or  at  least  until  you 
would  go  with  me  to  the  world's  end.  I  —  I  have 
learned  here  to  love  you  with  every  fibre  of  my  being, 
to  live  only  in  the  touch  of  your  sweet  hand,  the  smile 
of  your  exquisite  face.  No  !  no  !  I  will  speak,  Lucy. 
You  shall  not  turn  from  me  now.  Oh,  for  God's  sake 
do  not  go,  or  you  will  break  my  heart,"  he  pleaded  as 
she  would  have  rushed  past  him  into  the  house.  He 
seized  her  dress  with  one  feeble,  clutching  hand,  and 
drew  its  folds  towards  him  until  both  could  clasp  it. 
"  Nay.  I'm  going  this  night.  'Tis  no  disgrace,  dis 
honor,  to  any  woman,  North  or  South,  to  be  loved  as 
I  love  you,  and  with  me  'tis  life  or  death.  I  tell  you 
my  whole  heart ;  my  very  soul  is  filled  with  one  in 
finite  longing,  one  passionate  love  for  you  who  have 
nursed  me  back  to  life.  Oh,  my  darling  !  my  beauti 
ful  !  was  it  only  to  toss  it  aside  in  contempt  that  you 
aroused  it  all  ?  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  Can  nothing  plead  for 
me  ?  Can  nothing  bring  me  the  right  to  stay  ?  Speak 
to  me.  I'm  not  the  man  to  shrink  from  Fate.  I  will 
know  why  it  is  you  spurn  and  turn  from  me.  Do 
you  hate  all  Northern  men  so  bitterly  that  I  must  be 
only  alien,  enemy,  and  stranger  from  this  time  forth  ? 
Tell  me."  And  now  he  had  seized  her  hand,  but  this 
she  would  not  brook,  and  wrenched  it  almost  violently 
away. 

"  I  never  gave  you  grounds  for  such  a  feeling  towards 
me,"  she  faltered.  "I  strove  to  make  you  see  —  to 
make  you  understand  it  was  all  impossible." 

"  But  why — why  ?  I  know  all  this.  Heaven  knows 
it  is  needless  to  remind  me  of  the  way  you  avoided 


120  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

and  shrank  from  me  from  the  first  moment  I  was  mad 
enough  to  betray  myself  !  That  does  not  satisfy — 
that  does  not  explain.  My  race  is  as  proud  and  as 
prominent  as  your  own.  Your  brother  held  no  friend 
ship  equal  to  mine  ;  we  were  closest  friends — devoted 
friends  until  a  silly,  boyish  quarrel  parted  us  for  a 
time.  I  am  a  Northerner,  and  true  to  my  flag  and  the 
Union.  You  are  Virginian,  and  hold  us  as  enemies. 
But  this  war  cannot  last  forever.  We  are  one  people. 
Time  and  again  did  not  our  forefathers  fight  in  civil 
feud,  sometimes  on  opposite,  sometimes  on  the  same 
side,  only  to  be  the  stronger  and  better  friends  till  no w  ? 
Will  not  this  quarrel  end  as  all  such  dissensions  have 
ever  ended?  We  were  together  when  the  Red  and 
White  Roses  battled  for  the  crown.  We  fought  each 
other  hard  when  the  Stuarts  strove  against  the  House 
of  Hanover.  You  were  Roundheads  when  we  were 
Cavaliers  ;  you  were  with  Washington  when  many  of 
mine  still  wore  the  scarlet  of  King  George,  though 
our  name  had  hated  the  house  from  which  he  sprung. 
Civjl  war  has  come  upon  us  again.  We  battle  for  the 
Union,  you  for  its  disruption ;  but  no  nation  will  let 
such  strife  go  on  forever.  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  I  cannot 
stay,  and  day  by  day  fall  deeper  and  deeper  in  the 
toils  of  a  hopeless  love.  God  knows  if  I  go  this  night, 
my  heart  bides  here.  Think,  think,  sweet  one  ;  have 
you  no  word  of  hope  for  me — not  one  ?" 

Still  she  stood  there,  her  bosom  heaving  now,  her 
head  averted,  drooping  ;  her  eyes  —  though  he  saw 
them  not  —  brimming  with  tears.  His  pleading  would 
have  moved  a  stony  heart  if  it  lay  but  in  a  woman's 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  121 

breast,  and  hers  was  young  and  pure  and  tender,  and 
longing  to  love  and  to  be  loved.  She  strove  to  speak, 
but  words  would  not  come  just  then.  There  rose  up 
before  her  the  memory  of  that  last  talk  with  Henry  ; 
of  something  he  once  had  half  confided  before  that 
time,  and  so  long  as  her  brother's  words  could  live  in 
her  heart,  no  other  answer  would  she  give  the  man 
whose  very  life  seemed  hanging  on  her  words. 

She  started  suddenly  from  his  side.  There  was  a 
rustle  in  the  shrubbery  close  at  hand  ;  a  smothered  ex 
clamation  as  though  a  man  had  stumbled;  then  muffled 
footfalls,  then  silence. 

"Some  one  was  there  —  listening!"  she  exclaimed, 
startled  and  trembling.  "  I'm  sure  I  saw  a  figure  go 
skulking  off  towards  the  orchard — through  there,"  she 
pointed. 

Kearny  had  risen  painfully,  and  now  once  again 
stood  close  at  her  side. 

"  No  one  who  can  do  you  harm,"  he  said.  "  As  for 
me,  I  am  past  harming  if  you  will  not  answer  me. 
Lucy,  you  are  no  vain  coquette,  toying  with  a  man's 
strong  love  to  feed  a  woman's  vanity.  Day  by  day  I 
have  had  no  thought,  no  study  but  you,  and  I  would 
stake  my  soul  on  your  truth." 

"  It  is  because — because  you've  had  no  other  study 
that  you  think  as  you  do,"  she  quickly  spoke,  the 
woman  in  her  seizing  at  the  chance.  "When  once 
again  you  are  among  your  own,  'twill  not  be  so." 

"Among  my  own!"  he  echoed,  indignantly.  "Among 
my  own!  You  are  no  true  woman  if  you  do  not  well 
realize  this  day  that  on  all  this  earth  there  lives  but 


122  BETWEEN  THE    LINES. 

one  I  crave  to  call  my  own.  You  shall  not  trifle  with 
me,  Lucy.  I  must  have  my  answer  now,  though  it 
send  me  from  you  in  desolation.  You  do  not  love  me 
— that  I  know  ;  but  is  there  reason,  good  reason,  why 
I  should  never  win  you  ?  Look  at  me  !  Oh,  my  dar 
ling,  though  I  read  my  death-warrant  in  your  eyes,  I 
will  see  them  once  more,"  and  with  his  trembling  hands 
he  turned  and  lifted  her  sweet,  pale  face  until  it  was 
close  to  his — so  haggard,  so  roughly  bearded  now,  yet 
so  eloquent  and  glorified  with  the  strength  and  fervor 
of  a  man's  love. 

"Now  tell  me.     Is  there  reason  ?" 

"Do  you  not  know  it — yourself?"  she  answered  at 
last,  and  her  tear-dimmed  eyes  gazed  full  into  his. 

He  started  as  though  stung. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  I  was  told — I  was  sure —  Lucy  ! 
do  you  mean  there  is  another  ?" 

She  trembled  now  from  head  to  foot.  His  shaking 
hands  dropped  helplessly.  He  waited,  breathless,  for 
her  answer,  and  at  last  it  came  : 

"  You  know — you  ought  to  know — there  is  another." 
And  she  turned  and  fled. 

He  leaned  against  the  balcony  for  support.  All  his 
strength,  such  as  it  was,  had  left  him  now.  All  his 
manhood,  pride,  vehemence,  will,  and  passion  seemed 
crushed  and  broken.  He  bowed  his  head  upon  his  arm, 
trying  to  think,  trying  to  understand,  while  all  seemed 
reeling  about  him.  What  was  it  Hannah  had  told 
him  ?  Certainly  there  were  men  who  sought  her  hand ; 
certainly  she  had  admirers,  but  not  one  for  whom  she 
cared  a  straw.  He  had  not  sought  to  pry  into  her  se- 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  123 

crets,  but  after  she  withdrew  herself  from  his  society, 
Hannah  had  chattered  ceaselessly,  and  he  could  not 
but  listen.  And  yet— after  all — after  all,  with  her  own 
lips  she  had  told  him  he  ought  to  know — it  was  his 
right  to  know — there  was  another  who  stood  between 
him  and  the  hope  of  his  life.  What  were  wounds, 
suffering,  delirium,  death — to  this  ? 

Then  there  came  a  moment  or  two  in  which  he  heard 
nothing — saw  nothing.  He  was  very  weak,  and  the 
privation  and  exposure  of  the  last  forty-eight  hours 
had  done  their  work  only  to  be  supplemented  by  a 
blow  like  this.  Did  he  fall  ?  He  could  not  tell.  He 
was  dazed,  confused,  wandering.  Was  it  all  a  dream  ? 
Here  he  lay  once  more  in  the  big  arm-chair,  a  soft  hand 
bathing  his  forehead  ;  that  same  sweet,  exquisite  face 
with  a  world  of  anxiety  and  tenderness  in  the  violet 
eyes  gazing  into  his  as  he  wearily  opened  his  own  ; 
old  Nelse  standing  by  his  side,  pouring  forth  voluble 
expression  of  sympathy.  Was  it  possible  that  for  one 
instant  before  consciousness  fully  returned  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  warm,  soft  lips  upon  his  forehead  ?  It  was 
all  so  vague,  so  dreamy.  Looking  up,  he  saw  once 
more  the  face  he  loved.  But  'twas  all  true.  She  must 
have  meant  what  she  said.  There  was  the  very  look 
in  her  eyes,  the  very  expression  that  hovered  about  her 
mouth. 

"  Go  back  now,  Nelse,"  he  heard  her  say,  "  and  find 
your  master.  It  is  time  he  had  returned." 

Then  came  trampling  hoofs,  clattering  sabres,  jing 
ling  spurs.  Half  a  score  of  horsemen  rode  into  the  en 
closure.  Three  dismounted  and  rapidly  ascended  the 


124  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

steps,  two  in  the  uniform  of  officers  of  the  Union  cav 
alry  halted  short  as  though  stunned  at  sight  of  the  re 
cumbent  figure  before  them  and  the  slight,  girlish  form 
at  its  side  ;  the  third,  in  civilian  dress,  kept  a  little  in 
the  background.  It  was  this  last  one  who  was  first  to 
speak. 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  satisfied  ?  Did  I  tell  the 
truth  ?" 

" Kearny  /"  exclaimed  the  foremost  officer.  "My 
God  !  Is  this  you  ?"  Then  he  turned.  "  There  is  no 
alternative,  major?" 

"  None,  sir.     Carry  out  your  orders." 

"  Lieutenant  Kearny,  you  will  prepare  to  return  with 
us  at  once — a  prisoner  in  close  arrest." 


XII. 

"  THE  winter  of  our  discontent "  had  come  upon  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  The  bloody  sacrifices,  the  he 
roic  efforts  of  the  regimental  officers  and  the  rank  and 
file  had  all  been  neutralized  by  the  timid  and  vacillat 
ing  leadership  of  those  to  whom  the  highest  commands 
had  been  intrusted.  Lee  was  back  along  the  Rapidan, 
skilful  and  strong  as  ever.  McClellan  was  relieved; 
several  old  favorites  of  the  Peninsula  campaign  no 
longer  rode  at  the  head  of  their  corps  or  divisions, 
though  still  wearing  their  general's  stars  in  Washing 
ton,  or  on  distant  and  less  prominent  fields.  Others, 
like  Phil  Kearny  and  Stevens,  had  fought  their  last 
fight  and  gone  to  their  soldier  rest.  A  new  leader 
transferred  the  scene  of  conflict  to  the  heights  of 
Fredericksburg,  and  the  loyal  and  patient  army 
tramped  obediently  thither  only  to  find  the  crests 
along  the  southern  banks  of  the  stream  bristling  with 
the  bayonets  and  batteries  of  Lee.  The  administra 
tion  complained  of  McClellan  that  he  could  not  be 
induced  to  attack  unless  his  force  was  overwhelminer- 

o 

ly  superior  and  victory  was  certain.  It  seemed  to  de 
mand  that  its  generals  should  be  made  to  fight,  and 
the  new  commander  proceeded  to  satisfy  the  nation 
that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  would  shrink  at  noth- 


126  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

ing  by  "  butting  its  head  against  a  stone  wall,"  and 
assaulting  Lee  in  an  impregnable  position. 

More  mourning  at  home;  more  gaps  and  vacancies  at 
the  front ;  more  courts  and  investigations  and  "  com 
mittees  on  the  conduct  of  the  war"  at  Washington 
followed  as  a  matter  of  course.  Another  removal, 
another  experiment,  another  commander,  another 
splendidly  planned  passage  of  the  fords  and  swoop 
upon  the  Confederate  left,  another  senseless  delay. 
Then,  on  the  other  hand,  another  daring,  brilliant, 
defiant  march  from  front  to  flank,  another  superb  as 
sault,  and  the  luckless  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  doubled 
up  by  a  single  corps  led  by  that  indomitable  Jackson. 
A  winter  of  discontent  and  gloom,  indeed,  to  all  the 
Union  army  in  Virginia — to  all  the  loyal  North  ;  and 
a  winter  of  sore  trial  and  bitter  suffering  for  one  young 
cavalryman  in  particular — Mr.  Frank  Kearny,  of  New 
Jersey. 

No  words  can  well  describe  the  wrath  and  indigna 
tion  with  which  he  learned  that  a  charge  of  desertion 
had  actually  been  laid  at  his  door.  With  the  excep 
tion  of  the  major  and  adjutant,  he  saw  none  of  his 
comrades  on  the  night  of  his  "recapture"  at  the 
Gap.  He  was  conveyed  in  an  ambulance  to  Centre- 
ville,  and  thence  to  Washington,  where  for  weeks  he 
lay  desperately  ill.  Influential  relatives  were  speedily 
on  hand  to  see  that  justice  was  done  him.  A  devoted 
mother,  a  devoted  cousin  —  Miss  Paulding,  of  New 
York — hastened  to  his  bedside,  and  his  bodily  suffer 
ings  were  soothed  as  only  women  can  soothe  and  com 
fort;  but  there  are  mental  tortures  that  even  the  infi- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  127 

nite  pity  of  mother-love  can  never  reach,  and,  when 
not  delirious,  Frank  Kearny  was  a  victim  to  a  dejec 
tion  too  profound  for  comfort  of  any  kind.  The  ex 
posure,  the  bitter  disappointment,  the  final  shock  and 
outrage  to  his  soldier  honor  of  those  last  two  days  at 
Hopeville,  had  brought  on  a  relapse  that  laid  him  at 
the  very  door  of  death.  His  regiment  had  pushed 
on  through  Thoro'fare  Gap  on  the  night  he  was  re 
vealed  at  the  Armisteads'  to  the  eyes  of  the  designated 
officers,  precisely  as  the  scout  Tierney,  when  confront 
ed,  had  predicted  and  promised.  The  adjutant  quick 
ly  saw  that  his  comrade  must  have  been  severely 
wounded,  and  would  have  attributed  his  apparent  de 
sertion  to  that  cause,  but  the  major  was  a  man  who 
had  little  faith  in  human  nature.  He  only  saw  the 
pretty  girl  at  Kearny's  side,  and,  to  his  mind,  Captain 
Mullane's  scandalous  report  was  substantiated  in  all 

its  bearings.     While  the New  Jersey  trotted  on 

up  to  Front  Royal  that  next  day,  the  talk  at  every 
rest  was  of  Kearny's  astonishing  escapade.  The  ma 
jor  had  rejoined,  and  "had  the  floor;"  and  Kearny, 
being  absent  and  unrepresented,  could  expect  nothing 
else  than  the  " toujours  tort"  of  tradition.  Charges 
and  specifications  were  duly  formulated  by  the  major, 
who  cited  as  witnesses  the  regimental  adjutant,  now 
temporarily  absent  conducting  the  accused  and  raving 
officer  to  the  lines  of  Washington,  Captain  Mullane, 
the  major  himself,  the  general  of  division  who  on  the 
night  of  August  28th  had  ordered  or  authorized  Mr. 
Kearny  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  the  other  division  com 
mander  who  had  given  him  despatches  to  carry  to 


128  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

Buford,  and  finally  the  civilian  Tierney,  who  was  in 
the  secret  service  of  the  "War  Department. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  cavalry  brigade  to  light  his 
battle  for  him;  none  but  Confederate  soldiers  could 
tell  how  he  strove  to  cut  his  way  through  their  patrol 
and  carry  out  his  orders ;  none  but  they  to  bear  wit 
ness  that  his  horse  was  killed  and  he  himself  dragged 
from  underneath,  senseless,  crushed,  and  bleeding  ; 
none  but  they  to  tell  how  he  had  been  conveyed  to  a 
farm  on  the  upper  road,  his  wounds  dressed,  and  his 
identity  discovered  by  Captain  Armistead.  Even  they 
could  not  tell  and  did  not  know  that,  after  they  re 
joined  their  squadron  on  the  following  day,  the  young 
captain  had  gone  back  to  the  farmhouse  where  the 
wounded  "  Yank "  still  lay  unconscious,  and  there 
wrote  the  note  to  his  father  at  Hopewell,  and  having 
bundled  the  senseless  prisoner  into  a  straw  -  covered 
wagon  which,  with  two  negroes,  he  had  hired  for  the 
purpose,  he  sent  him  to  that  father's  home  under  the 
guidance  of  a  sergeant  of  his  own  troop  on  whose 
fidelity  he  could  depend  to  the  very  death.  There 
was  no  one  to  tell  how  long  the  Union  officer  lay  there 
unconscious;  how  he  strove  to  communicate  with  his 
comrades  when  consciousness  returned;  how  he  had 
escaped  from  his  would-be  captors  when  Major  Gor 
don  came  up  from  Richmond.  It  all  went  against 
him  in  the  cavalry  brigade,  and  the  charges  were  duly 
forwarded  to  Washington.  There,  however  better 
counsels  prevailed.  The  surgeons  were  prompt  to 
testify  that  with  such  wounds  and  injuries  as  he  had 
evidently  received  there  must  have  been  some  mis- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  129 

take.  When  consciousness  returned  the  accused  offi 
cer  was  able  to  tell  his  story,  and  though  he  knew  it 
was  Henry  Armistead  who  rescued  him  from  Libby 
and  sent  him  to  a  refuge  where  he  could  be  sure  of 
care  and  comfort — this  feature  he  was  bound  in  honor 
to  conceal.  It  would  have  leaked  out  in  short  order, 
become  known  to  the  many  Southern  sympathizers  at 
the  capital,  and  been  speedily  transmitted  to  the  Con 
federate  army,  to  the  probable  severe  censure,  if  not 
disgrace,  of  his  devoted  friend.  Not  even  to  his  mother 
did  he  knowingly  mention  this  incident,  but  there  was 
one  who  sat  by  his  side  when  fever  raged  in  his  veins 
and  wild,  wild  incoherencies  were  on  his  tongue.  One 
who  listened  with  quivering  lips  and  tightly  clasping 
hands  to  the  constant  moaning  mention  of  that  name 
— Lucy — and  whose  eyes  filled  and  whose  whispered 
prayers  called  down  blessings  at  the  frequent  allusion 
to  Henry  —  Henry  Armistead  —  Henry's  sacrifice  for 
his  sake.  Long  before  Frank  Kearny  was  able  to  sit 
up,  propped  by  pillows  and  nursed  by  loving  hands, 
Kate  Paulding  knew  that  his  heart  was  irrevocably 
lost  to  some  Virginia  girl,  and  divined  that  it  was 
Henry  Armistead  who  bore  him  from  his  original 
captors  to  a  place  of  safety.  Oh,  what  a  host  of  rec 
ollections  was  summoned  up  by  that  name!  Oh,  what 
a  revelation  of  shattered  hope  and  bitter  loss  there 
came  to  her  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night,  in  the 
repeated  mention  of  that  other  name — Lucy !  When 
Frank  Kearny  returned  to  convalescence  and  was  able 
to  totter  feebly  about  the  rooms  and  gradually  to  face 
the  situation,  his  was  not  the  only  heart  that  bore  a 
9 


130  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

weight  of  silent,  ceaseless,  gnawing  pain;  but  none, 
to  look  at  her,  would  dream  for  an  instant  that  the 
other  throbbed  in  Katherine  Paulding's  breast. 

Perhaps  it  was  best  for  Kearny  that  he  should  have 
such  a  burden  of  wrath  and  indignation  against  his 
accusers,  such  a  burning  desire  to  hasten  forth  and 
confront  them.  Both  at  the  War  Department  and 
Trenton,  however,  his  case  was  by  this  time  fairly 
represented  and  fully  understood.  Letters  from  offi 
cials  high  in  rank  assured  him  that  the  charges  were 
scouted  and  had  been  returned  to  the  brigade  and 
regiment  with  the  full  report  of  the  surgeons  and  his 
own  statement.  From  the  governor  he  received  the 
offer  of  promotion  to  higher  rank  in  a  new  regiment 
just  being  raised.  He  thanked  everybody  for  the 
kindness  extended,  but  what  he  longed  for  was  a 
chance  to  get  back  to  the  regiment.  He  would  never 

leave  the New  Jersey,  he  said,  until  he  had  faced 

down  every  and  any  detractor  in  it,  and — but  this  he 
never  mentioned  to  any  one  in  authority — there  was 
one  fellow  in  the  cavalry  brigade  with  whom  he  had 
a  score  to  settle.  For  that  he  must  be  patient  and 
hoard  his  strength. 

Not  until  the  guns  began  to  boom  at  Fredericks- 
burg  was  he  able  to  rejoin  the  regiment.  He  had  left 
it  youthful, buoyant,  joyous,  popular;  a  splendid  spec 
imen  of  the  young  cavalry  officer  —  tall,  handsome, 
erect,  with  glistening  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks.  He 
returned  aged  as  though  by  several  years;  stern,  taci 
turn,  gaunt,  haggard,  and  bearded,  with  eyes  that  no 
longer  glistened — they  simply  burned.  He  received 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  131 

the  greetings  of  his  fellows  with  quiet  and  reserved 
demeanor;  he  was  contemptuously  cold  to  several;  he 
could  evidently  forgive  none  of  them  that  there  was 
no  one  of  their  number  to  promptly  write  him  at  the 
very  outset  that  he,  at  least,  could  never  believe  such 
charge  as  that  alleged  against  him.  The  major  he 
"  cut "  dead.  It  was  not  the  lot  of  the  regiment  to  be 
heavily  engaged  at  Fredericksburg,  but  one  or  two 
vacancies  occurred  among  the  field-officers  and  some 
promotions.  Frank  Kearny  somewhat  coldly  thanked 
the  officers  who  gathered  at  his  tent  when  it  was 
known  that  he  had  been  commissioned  captain  within 
the  week  that  followed  the  great  and  disastrous  bat 
tle.  He  spent  much  time  in  confidential  talk  with  the 
colonel  and  with  two  of  his  chosen  friends,  the  adju 
tant  and  Captain  Dayton.  He  had  had  complete  ex 
planations  from  the  former  and  a  reconciliation  with 
him.  As  for  the  latter,  he  had  been  on  detached  duty 
at  the  time  the  story  gained  ground  in  the  brigade 
that  Kearny  was  "in  hiding,"  and  when  it  finally 
reached  his  ears  no  words  seemed  adequate  to  express 
his  contempt  for  the  originators.  In  some  way  it  was 
whispered  about  the  camps,  that  Frank  Kearny  "  didn't 
care  a  row  of  pins  for  the  captaincy."  It  was  known 
that  the  governor  had  offered  to  commission  him  as 
junior  major  of  the  new  regiment,  and  that  he  had 
declined  "  until  he  had  settled  some  matters  in  the 
cavalry  brigade,"  and  there  was  a  decidedly  uneasy, 
not  to  say  an  apprehensive,  feeling  as  to  just  when 
and  in  what  manner  that  "settlement"  would  take 
place. 


132  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

Every  day  Kearny  seemed  gaining  in  health.  His 
haggard  face  began  to  resume  its  wonted  lines,  and 
yet  'twas  greatly  changed.  'Twas  the  beard  did  that, 
said  some  of  the  commentators ;  but  the  observant 
men  knew  well  that  there  was  something  behind  the 
crisp  and  curling  mantle  of  brown  hair.  His  eyes 
still  burned;  his  lips  were  set  and  stern;  all  the  old 
gladness  and  jollity  were  gone;  the  ringing  laugh  was 
never  heard.  He  shunned  company ;  spent  most  of 
his  time  as  they  lay  in  camp  drilling  his  men  and 
looking  after  his  horses;  he  was  eager  and  ready  for 
scouts  and  picket  duty;  he  was  in  the  saddle  and  the 
open  air  hours  at  a  time,  and  was  giving  much  atten 
tion  to  sabre  exercise  with  the  best  fencer  in  the  regi 
ment,  and  to  practice  with  the  revolver.  To  the  camp 
of  an  adjoining  regiment,  brigaded  with  his  own, 
Kearny  would  not  go  at  all;  and  it  was  not  long  be 
fore  the  stories  of  his  daily  occupations  were  made 
the  subject  of  comment  there. 

"Look  out  for  yourself,  Mullane,"  said  one  of  the 
field-officers.  "It's  you  he's  training  for.  You'd  far 
better  quit  poker  and  whiskey  now,  and  get  in  fight 
ing  trim." 

And  Captain  Mullane  laughed  loudly,  but  his  laugh 
ter  was  not  glad.  One  night  he  asked  the  major  if  he 
thought  a  leave  of  absence  could  be  obtained,  "His 
wife  lay  very  ill  at  home  ;"  and  the  major  told  him  he 
would  do  what  he  could  for  him  with  the  colonel  now 
commanding  the  brigade. 

Up  to  this  time  not  one  word  had  Kearny  exchanged 
with  his  brother  officers  as  to  the  people  with  whom 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  133 

he  had  been  lodged  and  by  whom  he  had  been  nursed 
and  tended.  Though  night  and  day  Lucy  Armistead 
was  in  his  thoughts,  he  shrank  from  any  mention  of 
her  name  or  allusion  to  her  people.  Inquiries  had,  of 
course,  been  made  by  comrades  interested  in  his  strange 
adventure,  but  in  presence  of  his  colonel  he  said  to 
one  of  them:  "I  cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  this 
family,  and  the  best  way  I  can  show  it  is  to  keep 
their  secret.  It  would  subject  them  to  utter  ostracism 
if  their  friends  ever  learned  they  had  harbored  a  Yan 
kee.  It  is  my  purpose  to  say  nothing  about  them — 
until  the  war  is  over." 

There  had  been  great  curiosity  about  the  young 
lady.  The  major  had  learned  the  name  of  the  family, 
but  there  was  no  one  from  whom  they  could  learn 
particulars.  After  pointing  out  the  house  and  the 
lieutenant,  Tierney  the  scout  had  left  them,  and  had 
avoided  the  Jersey  regiment  from  that  day  to  this. 
But  the  adjutant  described  her  as  lovely,  and  confided 
to  Dayton  that  she  seemed  utterly  overcome  with 
shock  and  grief  when  Kearny  was  led  away.  It  set 
Dayton  to  thinking. 

One  cold  winter's  night  when  the  moon  shone  down 
on  snow-sprinkled  huts  and  glistening  white  canvas 
along  the  Rappahannock,  the  adjutant  was  sitting  at 
the  headquarters  tent  looking  over  the  mail  when 
Kearny  strode  quickly  in. 

"  Is  it  true,"  he  asked,  "  that  a  leave  has  been  grant 
ed  to  Captain  Mullane  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  is,"  answered  the  adjutant,  uneasily. 
He  did  not  like  the  indications  of  storm. 


134  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  Then  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  to  their  camp. 
Dayton  goes  too.  No;  I'm  not  armed.  You  need  not 
fear  anything  so  serious.  I  want  you  to  present  me 
to  Captain  Mullane.  I  have  a  question  to  ask  him, 
and  you  must  witness  his  reply." 

Wondering  at  the  strangeness  of  the  request  and 
the  oddity  of  the  proceeding,  the  adjutant  went.  The 
three  men  strode  silently  across  the  moonlit  field  until 
they  reached  the  sentry-lines  of  the  adjoining  regi 
ment,  Kearny  slashing  at  his  boots  from  time  to  time 
with  the  light  rawhide  he  carried.  He  asked  no  ques 
tions  and  vouchsafed  no  information  as  to  his  purpose. 
The  regiments  were  in  winter-quarters,  and  many  of 
the  officers  were  living  in  substantial  little  huts.  It 
was  to  a  structure  of  this  character  that  the  three  vis 
itors  were  escorted  by  a  corporal  of  the  guard  just  as 
the  trumpets  along  the  broad,  treeless  plain  were 
sounding  the  evening  tattoo. 

Sounds  of  revelry — somewhat  bacchanalian — issued 
from  within.  An  officer  came  forth  apparently  on 
the  way  to  the  roll-call  of  his  company.  He  stopped 
short  at  Kearny's  hail,  and  replied  hesitatingly  to  the 
question,  "  Is  Captain  Mullane  here  ?"  It  was  evident 
that  he  scented  mischief. 

"  May  I  trouble  you  to  ask  him  to  step  outside  a 
moment  ?"  said  Kearny,  civilly. 

"  Who  shall  I  say  wants  him?"  asked  the  lieutenant, 
suspiciously,  yet  with  a  certain  air  of  defiance.  There 
was  no  love  lost  between  the  two  commands,  and  he 
knew  the  Jerseyman  at  sight.  "His  wife  is  ill,  and 
he  starts  for  Acquia  Creek  in  a  few  moments." 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  135 

"Say  that  Captain  Kearny  desires  a  word  with  him." 

A  roar  of  laughter  and  the  clinking  of  glasses  told 
of  the  climax  of  some  camp-story  as  the  door  was  re 
opened.  Then  came  a  hush;  then  a  muttered  and  ex 
cited  discussion.  It  lasted  a  moment,  and  then  a 
coarse  voice  exclaimed: 

"There's  only  three  of  'em,  bedad!  Go  on  out, 
Mullane;  I'm  wid  ye.  Come  on,  fellers." 

Presently  out  they  came,  half  a  dozen  burly,  half- 
intoxicated  men,  and  grouped  themselves  compactly 
at  the  doorway. 

"  Which  is  Captain  Mullane  ?"  asked  Kearny,  quiet 
ly.  "  I  have  never  been  presented." 

"  I'm  your  man,"  was  the  answer,  as  a  strongly- 
built  fellow  of  the  ward-politician  type  stepped  a  lit 
tle  forward,  yet  not  too  far. 

"  Captain  Mullane,  in  my  enforced  absence  from 
my  regiment  last  September,  you,  it  is  claimed,  start 
ed  the  slander  that  led  to  my  arrest.  I  have  never  yet 
heard,  or  asked,  the  exact  language.  I  have  always 
meant  to  hear  it  from  your  own  lips.  Will  you  repeat 
it  now  ?" 

The  "rough"  looked  uneasily  about  him.  Very 
possibly  he  would  have  much  preferred  to  lie  out  of 
it,  but  the  devil  of  drink  was  uppermost  in  his  com 
rades.  They  were  many  and  the  Jerseymen  few,  and 
there  came  a  growl  of  encouragement  from  behind  him. 

"Tell  him  to  his  face,  Mullane.  Devil  a  lie  was 
there  in  it!" 

Thus  adjured,  and  with  sneering  emphasis,  the  cap 
tain  spoke: 


136  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  What  I  said  was  that  you  were  a  man  of  sense. 
Fighting  wasn't  to  your  taste  as  much  as  hiding  away 
a  few  weeks  in  your  sweetheart's  arms." 

Kearny  recoiled  as  though  struck  by  a  heavy  blow. 
The  light  switch  he  had  meant  to  use  dropped  to  the 
earth  beneath  his  feet.  One  instant  only  of  silence. 
Then  came  a  spring  like  that  of  a  tiger,  and  with  the 
low,  fierce  cry,  "  You  hound!"  he  flew  at  the  brawny 
throat  before  him,  and  Mullane  was  hurled  backward 
into  the  mud,  Kearny  going  down  with  him. 

True  to  their  tactics,  learned  in  many  a  bar-room 
brawl  or  election  row,  Mullane's  comrades  jumped  to 
the  rescue  of  their  champion,  raining  kicks  and  blows 
upon  his  assailant.  Dayton  and  the  adjutant  vainly 
strove  to  reach  the  struggling  and  prostrate  pair.  It 
would  have  gone  hard  with  Kearny  among  those  bru 
tal  boot-heels,  but  by  this  time  scores  of  other  officers, 
not  of  the  Mullane  faction,  with  the  colonel  himself, 
came  flocking  to  the  scene.  Roll-call  was  forgotten. 
The  "  roughs  "  were  pulled  away  and  banished  to  their 
several  quarters,  and,  bruised  and  breathless,  Kearny 
was  lifted  to  his  feet.  His  antagonist  more  slowly  re 
gained  his,  and  in  stifled  rage  responded  to  the  stern 
question  asked  him  by  his  commander  as  to  the  mean 
ing  of  such  a  disgraceful  brawl. 

"  'Twas  him  that  struck  me,  sir,"  he  said,  indicating 
Kearny,  who,  panting  heavily  and  leaning  on  Dayton's 
arm,  was  striving  to  regain  breath. 

"How  say  you,  Captain  Kearny?"  asked  the  colo 
nel,  sternly  still,  for  the  breach  of  all  discipline  was  a 
sore  offence  to  his  rigidly  soldierly  views. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  137 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  colonel,"  was  at  last  the  slow 
answer.  "  Never  until  to-night,  from  that  man's  own 
lips,  did  I  learn  of  the  hideous  insult  he  had  put  upon 
me.  I  should  have  known  that  it  was  one  that  could 
never  be  wiped  out  here.  I  will  answer  any  just  de 
mand — make  any  proper  amende  to  you.  But,  as  God 
is  my  judge" — and  he  pointed  in  quivering,  menacing 
wrath  at  Mullane — "  that  man  shall  answer  to  me." 


XIII. 

THE  fracas  in  the  cavalry  brigade  was  a  matter  that 
could  not  well  be  hushed  up.  Men  had  little  else  to 
do  for  several  weeks  of  wintry  weather  than  entertain 
themselves  as  best  suited  their  various  temperaments 
and  characters.  The  matter  was  discussed  in  all  the 
adjoining  camps,  and  the  drift  of  public  opinion  may 
best  be  inferred  from  the  brief  but  emphatic  comment 
made  by  nine  tenths  of  the  men  who  knew  Mullane — 
"  I  wish  he  had  killed  him."  Outside  of  the  squad  of 
six  or  seven  boon-companions  he  had  not  a  friend  in 
the  brigade.  The  great  mass  of  gentlemen  of  whom 
the  officers  of  the  various  regiments  were  composed 
had  never  associated  with  him.  His  allies  were  of  the 
class  made  famous  in  the  days  of  "Big  Six"  in  New 
York  and  the  "Northern  Liberties"  of  the  Quaker 
City.  A  reputation  as  a  political  "  boss  "  and  a  ward 
bully  at  home  was  supplemented  by  a  career  of  drink 
ing,  brawling,  and  poker-playing-  at  the  front.  In  no 
battle  had  his  voice  been  heard.  Somehow  or  other 
he  had  managed  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  hostile 
blade  or  bullet,  and  now  he  was  gone,  and  no  man  re 
gretted,  though  many  envied,  his  going.  Who  would 
not  have  given  much  to  enjoy  a  fortnight  with  the 
loved  ones  at  home  before  the  opening  of  the  spring 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  139 

campaign?  Leaves  of  absence  to  officers  and  fur 
loughs  to  enlisted  men  were  only  to  be  granted  for 
urgent  cause,  and  there  were  not  lacking  those  who 
said  they  believed  the  letter  Mullane  filed  with  his 
application  was  a  bold  forgery.  He  had  a  wife,  there 
was  no  question,  and  'twas  said  by  one  of  his  cronies 
that  she  was  more  than  a  match  for  him  with  her  fists. 
There  was  also  a  Dr.  McNamara,  whose  attentions  to 
her,  said  the  same  authority,  were  not  always  strictly 
professional ;  and  though  he  didn't  doubt  that  Mac 
could  be  induced  to  write  a  certificate  that  a  man's 
wife  was  dying  in  order  to  get  him  a  furlough,  he 
thought  it  improbable  that  he  would  be  in  this  in 
stance.  He  would  draw  the  line  at  Mullane.  Other 
unsavory  things  were  said  by  his  own  cronies,  now 
that  he  had  gone  with  his  winnings  and  left  them  out 
of  pocket.  Then  there  came  soldiers  of  his  squadron 
to  the  colonel's  tent  to  complain  that  they  had  given 
their  captain  money  to  keep  for  them,  and  in  some 
cases  had  lent  it  at  his  request,  and  he  had  gone  with 
out  a  word  to  them  on  the  subject.  Take  it  all  in  all, 
there  was  no  sympathy  for  Captain  Mullane  and  little 
blame  for  Captain  Kearny.  Most  men,  to  be  sure, 
said  that  he  should  not  have  soiled  his  hands  by  touch 
ing  such  a  blackguard,  but  no  men,  no  man,  in  all  the 
cavalry  brigade  until  that  night  dreamed  what  a  depth 
and  breadth  of  insult  had  been  conveyed  to  Kearny 
by  those  words.  Then  Dayton's  eyes  were  further 
opened,  and  the  adjutant,  recalling  the  loveliness  of 
the  girl  whom  he  saw  for  that  brief  moment  up  by 
Hopewell  Gap,  began  to  realize  that  it  was  the  in- 


140  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

suit  to  her,  not  to  him,  that  drove  Kearny  mad  with 
rage. 

As  for  Captain  Kearny  himself,  he  would  talk  with 
no  one.  He  begged  a  week's  leave  to  go  to  Washing 
ton.  Then  the  brigade  commander  sent  for  him. 

"Kearny,"  said  he,  "give  me  your  word  that  you 
will  not  follow  or  further  molest  that  fellow  Mullane, 
and  I  will  go  to  General  Hooker  myself  with  your  pa 
per,  and  beg  for  a  fortnight  for  you.  No  man  de 
serves  it  more,  and  it  will  do  you  good.  You  are 
brooding  too  much  over  a  trouble  every  one  else  has 
long  since  buried." 

"  Who  has  cause  to  remember  it,  sir,  as  I  have  ?" 

"I  admit  it,  but  let  that  drop.  Give  me  your  word 
you  are  not  going  after  Mullane — will  not  touch  him, 
and  I  can  get  your  leave." 

And  it  was  remembered  all  through  the  brigade 
during  the  gloomy,  dripping  month  that  followed  that 
Kearny  shook  his  head  and  would  make  no  promise. 

He  wrote  three  letters  that  night,  and  they  were  on 
the  way  to  Washington  before  another  sunset.  Life 
in  the  old  regiment  had  become  unbearable,  he  said. 
He  had  accomplished  the  object  of  his  return;  every 
accusation  and  accuser  had  been  faced  down,  but  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  easily  forget  or  forgive  the  men 
who  so  readily  had  given  credence  to  his  defamation. 
"  I  love  and  I  hate  with  equal  strength,"  he  wrote  in 
one  letter.  "  There  can  be  no  half-way  measure  with 
me." 

In  one  week's  time,  just  as  the  roads  were  deepest 
in  mud,  and  soft  with  the  coming  spring,  just  before 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  141 

the  brigade  began  to  find  that  stable  duty  could  be 
done  without  the  cumbrous  overcoat,  so  long  as  the 
afternoon  was  sunshiny,  there  came  an  order  from  the 
War  Department  which  authorized  the  immediate 

muster-out  of  Captain  Frank  Kearny, New  Jersey 

Cavalry,  "  to  accept  promotion,"  and  it  was  known 
that  he  had  been  commissioned  by  the  governor  as 
major  in  a  new  regiment  just  taking  the  field. 

The  officers  promptly  came  to  their  comrade's  tent 
to  offer  their  congratulations,  and  then,  as  they  strolled 
away  in  groups  of  three  or  four,  the  question  was  dis 
cussed  as  to  how  they  could  best  give  him  what  they 
termed  "  an  appropriate  send-off."  In  his  utter  change 
of  mood  and  supposed  change  of  character  Kearny  had 
not  been  in  the  least  companionable  since  his  return. 
No  man  knew  the  bitter  sorrow  at  his  heart;  no  one 
knew  how  night  after  night,  before  he  sought  his  pil 
low,  his  eyes  turned  longingly  to  the  stars  in  the  north 
ern  heavens,  and  sometimes  for  lonely  hours  he  sat  in 
silence  watching  them,  wondering  if  they  looked  down 
on  her  and  the  old  homestead  at  Hopewell.  Day  by 
day  the  love  of  her  burned  and  glowed  in  his  vehe 
ment  heart.  Never  for  a  moment  could  he  force  him 
self  to  forget  her — the  exquisite  face,  the  soft,  slender 
white  hands,  the  graceful,  womanly  form,  and  all  her 
dainty,  soothing  ways.  Sometimes,  like  a  sharp  pang, 
the  agony  of  that  parting  came  back  to  him — the 
memory  of  her  solemn  words,  "There  is  another," 
and  he  would  start  to  his  feet  and  stride  up  and  down 
in  restless  misery.  Who — who  was  the  man  who  had 
won  her  ?  Who  on  all  this  earth  could  love  and  cher- 


142  BETWEEN    TUB    LINES. 

ish  and  reverence  her  as  he  would  ever  do  ?  No  won 
der  he  had  no  more  the  ready  laugh  for  his  comrades' 
jests  or  joyous  words  for  their  daily  greetings.  Duty, 
stern  duty  alone  had  nerved  him  to  his  work.  He  had 
striven  to  forget  her,  and  think  only  of  his  loyalty  to 
the  flag;  but  at  all  times — in  every  thought  by  day,  in 
every  dream  by  night — the  face  he  idolized  was  mir 
rored  in  his  brain,  and  life  itself  was  wrapped  in  love 
of  her. 

And  so  it  resulted  that  when  Dayton  came  to  tell 
him  of  the  project  of  a  regimental  jubilee  in  honor  of 
his  promotion,  and  a  parting  "spread"  to  which  the 
officers  of  the  brigade  were  to  be  bidden,  Kearny  al 
most  brusquely  bade  him  put  a  stop  to  the  whole 
thing.  He  hurried  around  camp,  saying  brief  fare 
wells.  He  explained  that  he  must  hasten  at  once  to 
Trenton,  as  there  were  many  things  that  had  to  be  at 
tended  to  at  home  before  he  could  take  the  field  again; 
he  thanked  them  for  the  honor  they  had  contemplated 
paying  him,  but  said  it  would  be  impossible  to  wait 
until  the  designated  day.  Every  one  noted  his  fever 
ish  eagerness  to  be  gone,  and  Dayton,  who  rode  with 
him  to  the  Potomac,  and  saw  him  safely  aboard  the 
crowded  steamer  that  was  to  bear  him  to  Washing 
ton,  was  annoyed  when  he  returned  to  camp  that  night 
by  hearing  a  young  lieutenant  remark  to  the  captain 
of  his  troop,  "  I'll  bet  a  hat  he  means  to  run  Mullane 
to  ground  before  the  fellow's  leave  is  up." 

Standing  amid  the  throng  of  laborers  and  quarter 
masters'  employees  at  the  dock  at  Acquia,  and  keenly 
scrutinizing  every  officer  and  man  who  passed  the 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  143 

guard-line,  was  a  tall,  gaunt  man  in  civilian  dress. 
His  slouch  hat  was  pulled  down  over  his  eyes;  his 
face  was  hidden  by  a  heavy,  bushy  beard;  he  was 
evidently  well  known  to  the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
provost-guard,  for  they  were  talking  in  low  tones  to 
gether  more  than  once.  He  was  also  well  known  on 
the  steamer,  for  twice  he  passed  aboard  without  show 
ing  pass  of  any  kind  to  the  sergeant  at  the  gang 
plank.  He  was  coming  ashore  from  some  sudden 
dive  into  the  darkness  of  the  steamer's  lower  deck  just 
as  Kearny  and  Dayton  stepped  upon  the  sloping  stage. 
He  stopped  short  at  sight  of  the  former,  whirled  about, 
and  hastened  forward  out  of  sight.  Kearny  gazed  after 
him  in  odd  interest.  There  was  something  strangely 
familiar  in  the  figure;  but  the  face — the  beard — he 
could  not  recall  at  all. 

"Who  is  that  man  in  civilian  dress  who  just  went 
forward?"  he  asked  the  purser  of  the  steamer,  who 
was  at  the  gangway. 

"  That  ?  He's  a  quartermaster's  clerk  who  has  charge 
of  the  stores  that  are  run  down  by  us.  Name  is  Free 
man.  Keen  hand  at  poker,  I'm  told,  but  the  steward 
tells  me  Captain  Mullane  got  away  with  most  of  his 
pile  the  night  they  went  up  together.  Guess  you 
don't  want  to  play  with  him,  though.  Did  you  ever 
see  him  before  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Kearny,  briefly.  "  Come,  Day 
ton,  let  us  go  on  deck." 

Captain  Dayton  recalled  the  fact,  a  few  days  later, 
that  Kearny  had  again  inquired  as  to  the  name  and 
antecedents  of  the  tall,  bearded  stranger.  "I  have 


144  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

seen  that  fellow  somewhere  when  he  didn't  wear  that 
beard,  but  I  cannot  think  where.  I  don't  like  him, 
somehow,"  he  had  said.  And  Dayton  further  noted 
that  when  the  steamer  pushed  off  and  went  churning 
her  way  up  the  Potomac  the  tall,  bearded  clerk  went 
with  her. 

Captain  Mullane's  fortnight's  leave  had  well-nigh  ex 
pired  when,  on  the  following  night,  the  cavalry  brigade 
was  startled  by  news  that  caused  many  men  to  gaze 
anxiously  into  one  another's  faces,  and  with  eyes 
that  questioned.  The  burly  Irishman  was  found  shot 
through  the  heart  the  very  morning  that  Major  Kearny 
reached  "Washington.  The  body  was  lying  in  a  state 
room  close  to  that  which  the  major  had  occupied,  and 
it  was  remembered  by  the  guard  on  duty  at  the  dock 
that  the  captain  was  there  to  meet  the  steamer  on  her 
arrival,  and  went  aboard  almost  before  she  was  made 
fast.  No  one  had  heard,  in  the  noise  of  blowing  off 
steam  and  the  tramp  and  uproar  on  the  hurricane  deck, 
the  sound  of  a  scuffle  and  a  single  shot  fired  so  close 
that  the  dead  man's  coat  was  singed  with  flame  and 
his  body  blackened  with  the  powder. 


XIV. 

THE  major  of  Mullane's  regiment  was  sent  to  Wash 
ington  to  take  charge  of  the  deceased  officer's  effects 
and  to  make  such  investigation  as  to  the  cause  and 
manner  of  his  death  as  might  be  permissible  by  the 
police.  He  was  an  honest  and  a  dutiful  soldier,  a  man 
who  stood  high  in  the  confidence  of  his  colonel  and 
of  his  brother  officers ;  nevertheless,  there  was  no  lit 
tle  growling  among  the  "  Mullane  crowd,"  as  that 
particular  element  among  the  commissioned  force  was 
known,  because  that  particular  field-officer  had  been 
selected,  and  not  one  of  their  own  number.  Captain 
Moriarty  was  easily  induced  to  go  to  the  colonel  as 
chairman  and  spokesman  of  this  spontaneous  grievance 
committee,  and  to  say  to  him  that  the  "f rinds"  of 
Captain  Mullane  considered  that  they  had  been  ig 
nored  in  the  selection  of  Major  Dalrymple,  and,  fur 
ther,  that  in  his  hands  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that 
justice  would  be  done  :  he  was,  and  always  had  been, 
hostile  to  Captain  Mullane.  The  colonel  allowed  the 
red-faced  troop  commander  to  proceed  with  his  ha 
rangue  until  his  ideas  gave  out  and  he  had  to  pauso 
for  a  moment.  Then,  without  a  word,  the  commander 
held  forth  an  opened  copy  of  the  "Revised  Regulations," 
and  pointed  to  the  paragraph  which  prescribed  that 
10 


146  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

the  major  of  the  regiment  should  take  charge  of  and 
become  responsible  for  the  effects  of  deceased  officers. 
Moriarty  stumbled  over  this  a  moment,  and  then,  after 
scratching  his  head  in  some  perplexity,  he  hit  on 
another  line  of  assault. 

"  But  we  have  three  majors,  sir,  and  only  wan  of 
'em  was  frindly  to  Captain  Mullane.  Couldn't  Major 
O'Neil  be  sent  ?  'Twould  be  a  source  of  satisfaction 
to  the  frinds  and  family  of  the  'desayst.'  " 

"  There  are  reasons  why  Major  O'Neil  cannot  be 
detailed,  sir  ;  and  Major  Dalrymple,  as  commander  of 
Captain  Mullane's  battalion,  is  the  only  proper  one  to 
send.  That  will  do  on  that  subject." 

"  Very  well,  colonel.  Good-day,  sir.  I've  simply 
to  say  in  conclusion,  sir,  that  it's  the  belief  of  all  Mul 
lane's  frinds  that  he  was  foully  murdered  without  a 
chance  for  his  life,  and  that  the  man  who  did  it  was 
Major  Kearny,  sir.  Good-day  to  you,  colonel."  And 
Moriarty  went  back  to  his  friends  to  report  the  ill 
success  of  his  appeal,  and  to  spread  abroad  the  theory 
that  their  late  companion  had  met  his  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  New  Jersey  major. 

Remembering  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  con 
juring  up,  as  men  and  Christians  will,  all  manner  of 
things  that  were  of  no  import  at  the  time  of  their  oc 
currence,  but  that  became  of  serious  moment  now,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  there  were  strong  grounds  for 
believing  that  no  one  would  be  more  quickly  pounced 
upon  as  the  slayer  of  Mullane  than  he  who  swore  that, 
as  God  was  his  judge,  the  Irish  captain  should  answer 
to  him  for  the  foul  insult  put  upon  his  honor.  Men 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  147 

were  very  grave  and  reserved  in  the  camp  of  the 

New  Jersey,  and  rather  gloomy  and  vengeful  in  that 
of  their  neighbors.  The  story  went  up  from  brigade 
to  division  headquarters.  There  was  no  Bayard  now 
to  stand  the  friend  of  the  absent  soldier.  The  gallant 
cavalry  leader,  whose  face  had  borne  for  years  the 
scars  of  savage  warfare  on  the  plains,  had  met  his 
soldier  death  at  Fredericksburg,  and  another  veteran 
dragoon  had  recently  stepped  into  the  vacant  place — 
"  a  new  king  who  knew  not  Joseph" — and  when  Dai 
ry  mple  went  on  the  next  up  trip  of  the  steamer  to 
Washington  he  bore  with  him  official  letters  that  had 
much  to  say  of  the  late  fracas  between  Kearny  and 
the  murdered  captain,  and  that  told  in  no  mild  terms 
of  the  former's  furious  threats. 

It  was  four  days  before  the  officers  of  the  Jersey 
regiment  were  able  to  get  the  full  text  of  Dalrymple's 
report.  The  moment  it  was  received  by  his  colonel  a 
copy  was  made  and  handed  to  Captain  Dayton,  who 
read  it  aloud  to  the  assembled  comrades.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  even  when  he  finished.  Dayton  folded 
the  paper  and  looked  around  at  the  circle  of  grave  and 
anxious  faces.  There  were  one  or  two  in  \vhich  he 
read  hopeful  signs,  but  only  one  or  two.  Over  in  the 
other  regiment  the  reading  of  Dalrymple's  letter  had 
produced  but  one  impression :  that  Kearny  was  the 
man.  Here  among  the  Jerseymen  there  was  silence. 

Summed  up  in  its  entirety,  the  case  against  Kearny 
looked  black  as  night.  Coupled  with  his  threats,  his 
wrath,  his  refusal  to  give  a  promise  not  to  follow  the 
man  if  granted  leave,  the  following  uncanny  array  of 


148  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

facts  had  been  evolved,  partially  by  Dalrymple,  par 
tially  by  the  police,  partially  by  telegraphic  corre 
spondence  between  Washington  and  Trenton  : 

Mullane's  fortnight  of  leave  of  absence  would  have 
expired  the  second  day  after  Kearny's  departure,  and 
he  would  be  compelled  to  return  on  the  down  trip  of 
the  steamer  leaving  Washington  the  evening  follow 
ing  Kearny's  arrival  at  the  capital.  For  four  days 
after  the  captain's  departure  Kearny  had  been  striving 
to  obtain  leave  of  absence  himself,  only  to  refuse  it 
when  offered  him  on  condition  that  he  would  neither 
follow  nor  molest  Mullane.  Then  he  wrote  urgent 
letters,  and  sent  telegrams  to  the  adjutant-general  of 
New  Jersey  and  to  influential  friends  in  Trenton,  say 
ing  that  he  would  gladly  accept  the  majority  that  had 
been  tendered  him  if  there  were  now  a  vacancy.  The 
governor  was  visited  in  his  behalf  without  delay;  and 
that  very  evening  telegrams  were  sent  him  announcing 
his  new  commission,  and  saying  that  the  War  Depart 
ment  had  been  urged  to  order  him  to  report  at  once 
to  the  governor  of  his  state  for  duty  in  connection 
with  the  equipment  and  instruction  of  his  battalion. 
It  was  known  in  camp  that  two  telegrams  came  for 
Kearny  four  days  before  the  arrival  of  his  orders — 
these  were  probably  the  telegrams  referred  to — yet 
not  a  word  had  he  breathed  to  any  one,  even  to  Day 
ton,  of  his  coming  promotion.  Not  a  word  did  any 
of  his  comrades  hear  of  it  until  the  orders  themselves 
were  published ;  yet  he  must  have  anticipated  their 
coming,  for  he  was  "packed"  and  ready  to  start  al 
most  without  loss  of  a  day.  All  men  remembered 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  149 

his  feverish  impatience,  his  restlessness,  his  nervous 
irritability,  when  urged  to  "hold  over"  that  they 
might  give  him  a  farewell  dinner. 

Then  it  transpired  that  no  sooner  had  he  received 
telegraphic  notification  of  his  promotion  and  impend 
ing  orders  than  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the  adjutant- 
general  of  his  state  saying  that  urgent  personal  mat 
ters  required  his  attention  for  a  few  days,  and  begging 
that  he  might  be  authorized  to  delay  one  week  in  re 
porting  for  duty  with  his  battalion.  To  this,  affirma 
tive  answer  was  sent  by  telegraph ;  other  despatches 
had  come  to  him  both  in  camp  and  at  the  landing  at 
Acquia,  as  Dayton  could  not  but  remember.  The 
purser  of  the  steamer  recalled  the  fact  that  the  major 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down  on  deck  until  after  mid 
night.  Other  officers  were  aboard  going  to  Washing 
ton  on  sick  leave,  "furlough,"  or  duty — as  many  as 
three  or  four  dozen — and  they  were  having  a  jovial 
time  together  much  of  the  night,  but  Major  Kearny 
held  himself  aloof  from  all.  "He  seemed  moody  and 
preoccupied."  Before  "turning  in"  he  had  given 
orders  that  his  trunk  should  be  sent  to  Willard's  and 
his  other  baggage  to  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  depot. 
The  baggage  had  been  shipped,  as  "  tagged,"  to  Tren 
ton.  The  trunk,  duly  marked  with  his  name,  had 
been  at  Willard's  several  days,  uncalled-for. 

Major  Kearny  had  disappeared ;  no  man  knew 
whither. 

The  steamer  had  reached  her  Washington  dock  just 
after  daybreak,  said  the  guard.  Several  officers  were 
there  awaiting  the  coming  of  friends,  and  the  deceased 


150  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

was  particularly  remembered  as  having  driven  down 
in  a  carriage  with  two  or  three  men,  all  of  whom  were 
noisy  and  intoxicated.  Mullane  himself  was  more 
than  half  drunk  and  in  very  surly  mood.  He  had 
some  words  with  the  officer  of  the  guard,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  examine  the  papers  of  all  persons  in  uniform 
either  going  or  coming,  and  lurched  aboard  the  boat 
almost  before  she  was  made  fast,  elbowing  his  way 
among  the  crowd  of  officers  in  the  gangway,  and  being 
remarked  by  several  for  his  unmistakably  drunken 
appearance.  "A  gen'l'm'n  waitin'  f'r  Jim,"  was  the 
explanation  he  gave  to  the  steward  at  the  cabin  stair 
way,  and  that  was  the  last  seen  or  heard  of  him  until 
nearly  half  an  hour  later,  when,  in  making  the  rounds 
of  the  staterooms  just  vacated,  the  stewardess  was 
horrified  to  find  in  one  of  them,  two  doors  from  that 
occupied  by  Major  Kearny,  the  dead  body  of  the  cav 
alry  captain.  Judging  from  the  appearance  of  the 
clothes,  it  had  evidently  been  dragged  in  there  ;  a  life- 
preserver  had  been  thrust  under  the  ghastly  head  ;  a 
little  water  had  been  dashed  over  the  face  as  though 
the  slayer  had  hoped,  possibly,  to  revive  his  victim, 
and  the  pitcher  was  there  by  the  side  of  the  body  ; 
then  the  legs  had  been  doubled  up  and  thrust  aside 
BO  that  the  stateroom  door  could  be  closed  and  the 
ugly  sight  temporarily  hidden;  then  the  murderer  had 
slipped  away. 

Mullane's  watch,  his  papers,  his  loose  bills,  perhaps 
ten  dollars  in  all,  were  found  in  his  pockets.  Buckled 
around  his  waist  was  a  broad  money-belt,  to  which 
was  attached  a  revolver  holster ;  his  coat  and  waist- 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  151 

coat  were  opened,  and  the  belt  displayed ;  its  com 
partment  for  "  greenbacks"  was  empty,  and  the  flap 
was  open.  This  looked  like  robbery,  since  it  was 
known  that  he  generally  carried  large  sums  with  him. 
His  revolver,  loaded  and  capped  in  every  chamber, 
was  still  in  the  holster.  This  put  an  end  to  the  theory 
of  suicide.  It  was  murder,  evidently,  for  the  victim 
had  not  been  allowed  to  draw  in  his  own  defence. 

For  their  part,  the  police  had  learned  enough  to 
blast  such  reputation  for  good  as  might  remain  to  the 
captain  over  and  above  his  repute  for  ill.  He  had 
gone  home,  but  only  for  a  day.  His  wife  had  not 
been  ill,  nor  had  Dr.  McNamara  certified  that  she  was 
at  the  point  of  death,  and  craving  to  see  her  husband. 
The  police  were  of  opinion  that  his  arrival,  all  unan 
nounced,  was  a  matter  of  wild  consternation  to  the 
putative  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows,  but  he  had 
turned  up  too  drunk  to  know  the  difference.  He  had 
spent  several  days  in  gambling  and  drink  in  Philadel 
phia  ;  had  reached  Washington  with  two  strangers 
the  evening  before  his  untimely  taking  off,  and  it  was 
probable  that  the  night  was  spent  in  gambling  and 
drink  until  these  very  fellows  drove  him  to  the  boat 
at  dawn.  Who  they  were  the  detectives  had  not  yet 
discovered  ;  neither  had  they  found  the  hack-driver. 
Their  theory  was  that  the  men  were  some  of  the 
swarms  of  professional  sharps  and  gamblers  who  hung 
about  Baltimore  and  Washington  all  through  the  war; 
that  they  had  fleeced  and  then  gladly  driven  him  to 
the  boat  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  that  he  had  not  been 
murdered  for  money.  Now  they  were  searching  for 


152  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

Major  Kearny,  who  had  not  been  seen  or  heard  of 
since  the  moment-  of  the  steamer's  arrival.  Indeed, 
no  one  saw  him  among  the  group  of  officers  eager  to 
disembark  the  moment  the  dock  was  reached,  and 
every  one  aboard  the  boat  believed  that  he  must, 
therefore,  have  been  in  the  cabin  or  his  own  state 
room  when  Mullane  lurched  up  the  winding,  brass- 
bound  stairs  to  meet  his  tragic  fate. 

But  no  one  saw  him  leave  the  steamer  afterwards, 
and  this  was  singular.  True,  he  could  have  stepped 
off  the  guards,  or  let  himself  down  from  the  upper 
deck  to  the  dock ;  he  might  readily,  too,  have  passed 
the  sentry  at  the  pier ;  for,  after  the  rush  of  arrivals, 
and  the  presumable  passage  out  of  all  officers  and  men 
coming  up  from  the  front,  it  would  be  an  easy  mat 
ter.  Civilians  were  coming  and  going,  quartermas 
ters'  employees  passing  to  and  fro,  and  all  manner  of 
distractions  occurring  to  favor  any  one  who  wished 
to  slip  out  unnoticed.  Indeed,  the  officer  of  the  guard 
could  not  say  that  Major  Kearny  was  not  among  the 
thirty  or  forty  officers  who  disembarked  at  early  morn 
ing.  He  only  "  did  not  remember  seeing  such  a  name," 
whereas  there  were  now  one  or  two  who  began  to  be 
lieve  that  he  passed  out  of  the  gate  with  them.  They 
knew  him  by  sight,  and  he  was  pointed  out  on  the 
boat  as  "the  fellow  who  bearded  the  Irish  lion  in 
his  den." 

Kearny's  stateroom  was  empty.  He  had  a  satchel, 
a  heavy  overcoat,  and  a  small  leather  valise  when  he 
came  aboard,  and  these  had  been  duly  taken  by  the 
porter  to  his  room.  The  valise  was  heavy,  said  the 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  153 

porter,  and  big  enough  to  contain  a  complete  suit  of 
civilian  dress  if  be  bad  seen  fit  to  cbange  bis  clothes 
and  go  ashore  in  "mufti ;"  but  with  so  much  to  carry 
he  could  not  have  been  very  "  spry  "  in  his  movements, 
and  be  could  not  have  hidden  his  big  overcoat  and 
long  dragoon  boots  in  that  valise-.  Yet  they  were 
gone.  Not  a  trace  of  him  was  left  behind. 

All  this,  though  in  terser  form,  Captain  Dayton  had 
read  aloud  to  the  gathering  in  the  colonel's  tent,  and, 
as  has  been  said,  the  report  was  received  in  utter  si 
lence.  Dayton's  voice  was  husky  and  tremulous  when 
he  finished,  and  he  waited  some  little  time.  Then, 
raising  his  head  and  looking  calmly  around  the  circle, 
he  spoke  in  tones  from  which  the  tremor  had  suddenly 
disappeared  : 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  since  no  one  has  a  word  to  say, 
I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  keep  the  floor.  In  the  ab 
sence  of  any  expression  of  opinion  from  you,  it  may 
not  be  inappropriate  for  me,  who  have  known  him 
from  boyhood,  to  say  what  I  think.  If  for  one  mo 
ment  hitherto — knowing  Frank  Kearny's  high  tem 
per  and  his  bitter  rage  against  this  man — knowing, 
too,  rather  more  than  most  of  you  about  the  circum 
stances  attending  his  previous  absence — I  had  a  vague 
but  hateful  doubt  of  his  innocence,  it  is  set  at  rest  at 
once  and  forever  by  this  very  report.  He  never  could 
have  done  it." 

It  was  a  strange,  solemn  scene,  that  score  of  sol 
dierly  men  gathered  there  in  gloomy  silence  to  delib 
erate  on  the  report  which  cast  so  dark  a  cloud  upon  a 
comrade's  name.  It  was  evident  that  there  were  sev- 


154  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

eral  on  whom  its  effect  was  very  different  from  that 
declared  by  Dayton.  It  was  apparent  that  none  were 
quite  ready  to  grasp  the  cause  of  his  great  relief.  At 
last  came  the  question, 

"Will  you  give  your  reasons,  Dayton?" 
"  Reasons  ?  Why,  man  alive  !  think  for  yourself. 
Mullane's  pistol  was  in  its  holster,  every  chamber 
loaded ;  he  never  had  a  chance  for  his  life !  Frank 
Kearny  might  have  fought  him  had  they  met,  but  he 
is  the  last  man  to  brand  as  an  assassin,  and  you  ought 
to  know  it." 

Dayton's  loyalty  to  his  friend,  and  serene  confi 
dence  that  he  was  entirely  innocent  and  would  re 
appear  in  a  day  or  so,  ready  and  willing  to  account 
for  every  moment  of  his  absence,  had  no  little  weight 
in  the  camp  of  the  brigade  ;  but  despite  it  all  there 
was  widespread  feeling  that  Mullane's  sudden  and 
violent  death  was  the  outcome  of  the  fray  that  had 
been  for  the  fortnight  past  the  talk  of  every  cavalry 
mess  along  the  plateau. 


XV. 

JUST  about  this  time  there  was  the  mischief  to  pay 
in  front  of  Washington.  While  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  worrying  through  the  winter  as  best  it 
could,  and  huddling  about  the  camp-fires  down  in 
front  of  Fredericksburg,  a  force  of  goodly  size  occu 
pied  the  defences  of  the  national  capital.  With  its 
right  resting  within  the  parapets  of  Forts  Ethan  Allen 
and  Marcy  on  the  heights  south  of  the  Chain  Bridge, 
the  defending  line  swept  through  a  score  of  powerful 
works  until  it  reached  the  Potomac  again  below  Alex 
andria.  Every  road  was  picketed,  every  lane  patrolled, 
and  the  villages  of  Fairfax,  Falls  Church,  and  Vienna 
were  occupied  at  most  times  by  outposts  both  of  cav 
alry  and  infantry.  And  yet,  despite  the  strength  of 
the  defenders  and  the  vigilance  of  their  videttes,  "  the 
front "  at  that  particular  point  was  a  place  of  unusual 
exposure  for  wearers  of  the  blue.  Mosby,  an  active 
and  remarkably  enterprising  young  leader,  was  at  the 
head  of  a  body  of  "  irregular  horse,"  sometimes  called 
partisans  south  of  the  Potomac,  and  invariably  known 
as  guerillas  north  of  it.  In  numbers  these  night-riders 
were  variously  estimated  anywhere  from  one  to  fifty 
thousand.  The  Union  pickets  along  that  front  in 
clined  to  the  latter  number  as  the  more  probable,  and 


156  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

no  one  who  was  not  engaged  in  the  delicate  and  hazard 
ous  duty  of  warding  off  Colonel  Mosby's  incessant 
assaults  that  winter  and  spring  ought  to  take  excep 
tion  to  this  palpable  exaggeration.  If  Mosby  did  not 
count  fifty  thousand  men  in  his  command,  and  would 
have  been  hard  pushed  to  make  it  fifteen  hundred  at 
his  very  best,  he  might  as  well  have  done  so,  for  no 
fifty  thousand  men  in  that  section  of  Virginia  ever 
kept  the  lines  of  Washington  in  a  state  of  livelier  sus 
pense  and  anxiety  than  did  this  band  of  hard-riding 
"  bushwhackers."  They  were  nearly  all  youngsters, 
born  and  bred  in  the  old  commonwealth.  Nearly  ev 
ery  man  of  their  number  knew  every  lane  and  bridle 
path  from  the  Hazel  River  below  Warrenton  to  the 
broad  Potomac  itself,  and  what  they  did  not  know 
they  soon  learned.  They  had  relatives  or  friends  in 
every  house  from  the  Blue  Ridge  to  Alexandria,  if 
not  beyond.  There  was  not  a  man  of  them  who  had 
not  a  sweetheart  somewhere  within  that  range — and 
not  a  few  that  had  not  more  than  one.  It  was  not 
surprising  that  Colonel  Mosby  soon  enlarged  the  field 
of  his  operations  and  took  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley 
(and  some  Yankee  paymasters — funds  and  all)  ;  but 
in  the  early  spring  of  1863  he  was  skipping  here,  there, 
and  everywhere  in  the  immediate  front  of  Washing 
ton.  Nobody  could  put  a  finger  on  him,  but  he  put 
a  finger  on  every  man  who  ventured  forth;  and  just 
about  the  time  Frank  Kearny  left  the  camp  of  the 
cavalry  brigade  behind  Falmouth,  all  the  lines  were 
ringing  with  Mosby's  latest  exploit.  He  had  swooped 
down  and  carried  off  a  "  swell "  brigadier-general  of 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  157 

the  Union  army  from  the  outskirts  of  Fairfax,  and  it 
was  rumored  that  the  very  pretty  girl  at  whose  invi 
tation  the  general  had  called  that  evening  was  Mos- 
by's  confederate. 

For  six  months,  ever  since  the  transfer  of  the  army 
from  Warrenton  to  Fredericksburg  and  the  conse 
quent  abandonment  of  the  railway  as  the  line  of  sup 
plies,  Mosby  had  covered  the  country  from  the  Bull 
Run  Mountains  to  the  Union  fortifications,  and  no 
one  could  divine  what  might  be  going  on  behind  him. 
Now,  irritated  by  the  boldness  of  this  last  raid,  there 
seemed  to  be  a  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  govern 
ment  to  send  out  a  cavalry  column  to  capture  or  drive 
away  these  lively  tormentors.  A  story  had  reached  our 
friends  of  the  brigade  that  they  were  to  be  the  lucky 
ones  to  make  the  attempt,  and  they  were  glad  enough 
to  go.  Very  few  believed  there  would  be  any  chance 
of  capturing  such  a  Will-o'-the-wisp  as  Mosby  ;  but 
there  would  be  scouting,  fighting,  something  to  break 
the  monotony  of  camp  life,  and  no  man  in  all  the  brig 
ade  was  so  eager  to  go  as  Kearny.  For  six  months 
he  had  been  able  to  hear  nothing  of  the  household  at 
Hopeville,  and  day  by  day  the  longing  to  know  some 
thing  of  the  girl  he  loved  had  grown  to  the  verge  of 
a  mania.  It  was  with  bitter  disappointment  that  he 
found  that  the  rumor  of  their  being  sent  thither  in 
search  of  Mosby  either  had  no  foundation  or  that  the 
project  was  abandoned.  It  was  now  reported  that 
another  command — some  new  cavalry  regiments — had 
been  ordered  out  from  "Washington,  but  within  the 
Union  lines  there  was  far  less  confidence  in  the  sue- 


158  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

cess  of  the  expedition  than  there  would  have  been 
had  the  object  been  declared  a  hunt  for  a  needle  in  a 
haystack. 

Beyond  the  lines  and  all  over  the  lovely  tract  of 
country  in  the  counties  of  Loudoun,  Fairfax,  Prince 
William,  and  Fauquier  east  of  the  Bull  Run  range  it 
was  a  season  of  jubilee  for  all  good  Virginians  whose 
hearts  were  with  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy  ;  all 
households  seemed  wild  with  enthusiasm  over  Mosby's 
exploits,  and  between  his  officers,  his  troopers,  and  the 
populace  of  housekeeping  women,  children,  and  aged 
men  there  was  apparently  but  one  instance  of  coldness 
and  distrust.  There  were  sadness  and  suffering  at 
Hopeville,  where  good  old  Judge  Armistead  was  slow 
ly  breaking  down,  crushed  with  the  weight  of  sus 
picion  and  calumny  that  had  been  heaped  upon  him 
since  the  rescue  of  Lieutenant  Kearny. 

In  less  than  three  weeks  it  seemed  as  though  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  all  that  section  of  Virginia 
had  been  taught  to  point  at  Armistead  the  finger  of 
scorn.  He  was  a  traitor  to  his  people,  a  protector  and 
abettor  of  the  enemies  and  invaders  of  his  state.  Ho 
had  harbored,  until  he  could  return  to  his  friends,  the 
man  of  all  others  the  Virginians — the  young  men,  at 
least — most  longed  to  have  and  hold  :  Lieutenant 
Kearny;  he  who  had  driven  off  to  captivity  in  North 
ern  dungeons  such  chivalric  fellows  as  Pegram,  Eus- 
tis,  and  Falconer.  True,  all  three  of  them  were  by 
this  time  exchanged,  and  had  rejoined  their  comrades, 
by  no  means  looking  the  worse  for  their  few  months' 
sojourn  in  the  inhospitable  neighborhood  of  Washing- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  159 

ton  where  old  friends  were  allowed  to  visit  them  with 
as  many  dainties  and  comforts  and  consolations  as 
though  they  had  been  wife-murderers  condemned  to 
hang.  All  the  same,  there  was  a  degree  of  rhetorical 
pomp  about  the  phrase  "  languishing  in  Northern  dun 
geons"  which  made  it  popular  for  the  time  being,  and 
served  to  keep  up  the  sentiment  against  Judge  Armis- 
tead.  It  is  a  community  that  sticks  at  nothing  in  love 
or  hate.  Life  itself  was  too  small  to  give  to  the  cause, 
or  for  the  leaders  they  loved  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
no  obloquy  was  too  harsh  for  the  man  once  honored 
of  them  all  but  now  a  recreant  to  their  trust.  It  was 
universally  told  in  farm  and  village  circles,  and  it  went 
to  Richmond,  Staunton,  and  Lynchburg,  that  when 
Armistead  gave  his  word  to  Major  Gordon  that  Lieu 
tenant  Kearny  was  nowhere  on  his  premises,  the  Yan 
kee  was  at  that  moment  in  hiding  up-stairs  ;  there 
were  not  lacking  women  to  say,  in  Lucy  Armistead's 
own  room. 

For  months  he  had  been  treated  as  a  Pariah,  and 
poor  Lucy  had  the  bitter  grief  to  suffer  alone  of  see 
ing  her  father  breaking  down  under  the  burden  of 
accusation  and  aversion  thus  heaped  upon  him.  Sev 
eral  times  had  Dr.  Loring  been  summoned  from  across 
the  range,  and  twice  since  Lee  returned  to  the  Rapi- 
dan  had  Henry  managed  to  reach  them  for  a  brief 
visit.  In  the  army  no  such  talk  went  the  rounds  as 
that  which  passed  current  among  the  non-combatants 
and  the  women.  No  rumor  of  dishonor  attaching  to 
his  beloved  father's  name  had  ever  reached  the  son. 
Bitterly  he  grieved  at  the  suspicion  and  censure  he 


160  BETWEEN  THE    LINES. 

had  brought  upon  his  people  in  having  compelled  them 
to  undertake  the  care  of  Kearny,  but  he  well  knew 
that  the  trust  was  sacred  with  them  when  once  his 
word  was  given.  Not  once  had  his  father  shown  him 
sign  of  the  direful  effect  of  all  that  month  of  secret 
nursing.  When  the  son  was  there,  the  father  hid  his 
sorrows  and  made  the  boy  welcome.  Neither  would 
Lucy  betray  the  true  state  of  the  case,  and  Henry  had 
on  both  occasions  ridden  back  to  his  duties  comforted 
with  the  belief  that  the  coldness  would  soon  blow 
over,  and  that  by  his  own  valor  and  devotion  he  could 
soon  outweigh  and  cause  to  be  forgotten  the  apparent 
defection  at  home.  That  he  himself  had  urged  his 
father  to  harbor  and  protect  Kearny  was  not  known 
to  more  than  five  persons  ;  this  the  father  had  in 
sisted  on. 

One  man,  apparently,  saw  nothing  in  popular  in 
dignation  which  should  compel  him  to  discontinue  his 
visits  to  Hopeville  or  his  attentions  to  Miss  Armis- 
tead,  and  that  man  was  Captain  Scott  Falconer,  who 
with  his  squadron  of  "Rangers"  was  now  attached 
to  Mosby's  command.  No  week  had  passed  during 
the  winter  without  its  visit  from  him,  and  sometimes 
he  was  at  the  old  house  two  or  three  days.  The  un 
happy  invalid,  now  a  prisoner  in  his  study,  looked 
upon  these  frequent  appearances  as  his  only  chance 
of  communication  with  the  army  in  whose  success  all 
his  hopes  were  still  centred,  and  he  welcomed  them, 
even  though  he  had  not  fancied  Falconer  in  the  past, 
and  hardly  trusted  him  now.  He  knew  that  Lucy  was 
the  magnet  that  drew  him  thither,  and  he,  at  any  other 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  161 

time  and  under  any  other  circumstances,  would  have 
found  it  possible  to  intimate  that  such  frequent  calls 
were  not  desirable.  Now  he  could  not.  He  knew 
well  that  Falconer  had  lost  caste  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  Falconer,  with  apparent  reluctance,  gave  him  to 
understand  it  was  solely  because  he  would  persist  in 
association  with  a  tabooed  man.  The  captain  made 
no  mention  of  the  fact  that  he  was  generally  execrated 
for  his  conduct  the  day  of  Bayard's  sweeping  advance, 
when  that  gallant  boy  lieutenant  was  killed,  and  still 
less  was  the  captain  apt  to  mention  the  fact  that 
Mosby  had  given  him  the  cold  shoulder  on  many  an 
occasion. 

It  was  a  sunshiny  day  in  mid-March,  and  the  snow 
was  gone  and  the  roads  were  thawing,  and  it  was  evi 
dent  that  spring  would  soon  appear,  and  the  spring 
campaign  be  sure  to  open.  For  a  week,  despite  the 
softening  weather,  the  judge  seemed  more  downcast 
than  ever — more  hopeless  and  lonely.  Lucy's  heart 
was  heavy  as  lead  as  she  moved  about  the  house, 
striving  to  prepare  from  the  scanty  means  at  hand 
some  tempting  dish  for  the  listless  invalid,  striving  to 
sing  as  she  went  about  her  ceaseless  avocations  that 
he  might  believe  her  happy  and  buoyant,  and  never 
suspect  how  many  and  many  a  day  the  tears  rained 
down  her  wan  cheeks  even  as  her  voice  was  uplifted 
in  some  old  ditty  he  loved.  Their  means  were  well- 
nigh  exhausted ;  the  prospect  of  starvation  was  not 
alluring  ;  provisions  were  scarcer  and  scarcer  every 
day,  and  when  they  could  no  longer  buy  there  was  no 
one  from  whom  they  could  ask  aid,  even  if  her  pride 
11 


162  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

had  not  revolted  at  the  idea.  Henry  sent  everything 
in  his  power,  but  captain's  pay  in  Confederate  money 
was  not  a  fortune  in  the  spring  of  '63,  and  became  a 
pittance  on  which  a  Chinaman  could  barely  live  within 
the  year.  Shut  up  in  his  room,  the  judge  knew  not 
how,  one  by  one,  the  cocks  and  hens  had  been  con 
verted  into  broth  or  chicken  fricassee  for  his  benefit 
until  all  were  gone.  That  he  was  still  nourished  by 
the  flesh  of  the  domestic  fowl  was  due  to  Nelse,  and 
a  predatory  ability  and  concomitant  manufacture  of 
statements  for  which  may  Heaven  give  the  old  darky 
absolution.  Nelse  stoutly  swore  he  found  the  chick 
ens  "  up  the  hill,"  where  they  had  established  a  colony 
supposably  beyond  reach  of  marauders. 

Lucy  Armistead's  heart  must  have  been  sorely  torn 
with  care  and  anxiety  by  this  time,  for  when  Falconer 
appeared  she  almost  welcomed  him. 

"  You  see  how  father  is  failing,  Captain  Falconer, 
and  Dr.  Loring  has  not  been  near  us  for  a  fortnight. 
I  feel  as  though  Henry  must  be  sent  for,  and  can  I 
ask  you  to  get  this  letter  to  him  ?" 

"  You  can  ask  anything  of  me,  Miss  Armistead. 
You  well  know  that  my  house  in  Warrenton  is  vacant; 
you  know  it  is  at  your  service  and  his.  Can  you  not 
induce  him  to  move  thither — can  I  not  induce  you  ?" 

She  rebuked  him  gently,  almost  wearily.  Her  up 
lifted  hand  looked  fragile  and  white,  and  her  face  was 
well-nigh  as  pale,  though  a  faint  color  rose  at  his 
words.  "  We  have  long  since  agreed  that  it  was  im 
possible,  captain,"  she  said.  "  Do  not — do  not  speak 
of  it.  He  would  not  go;  I — could  not." 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  163 

"  You  could  move  him  thither  this  very  night,  Lucy, 
and  to-morrow  have  him  in  comfort  and  safety,  and 
Henry  only  another  day  away.  Here  everything  is 
against  him,  and  any  moment  we  may  be  driven  out 
beyond  the  Blue  Ridge.  We  know  a  big  column  of 
cavalry  is  now  in  front  of  Washington  preparing  to 
move  upon  us.  Once  they  regain  possession  your  last 
chance  is  gone.  Our  scouts  and  pickets  were  attacked 
at  Fairfax  and  Chantilly  this  very  morning,  and  I 
know  that  Mosby  expects  an  advance  in  force  to-night. 
It  was  this  that  brought  me  here.  Can  I  never  reach 
your  heart?" 

He  would  have  continued,  but  she  checked  his  words. 

"  Look  !  is  not  that  one  of  your  sergeants  riding  in  ?" 

The  captain  turned.  It  was  just  twilight,  and  grow 
ing  darker  every  moment.  The  man  who  entered  the 
gate  threw  his  horse's  reins  over  a  post,  and,  saluting 
Captain  Falconer  from  the  foot  of  the  steps,  held  forth 
a  letter. 

"  Bring  it  here !"  said  the  captain.  "  Where  are 
you  from  ?" 

"  From  Aldie,  sir.  A  column  of  Yankee  cavalry 
went  through  the  Gap  at  daybreak  and  is  over  in  the 
valley  behind  you  now.  Another  is  pushing  out  from 
Centre ville.  The  l  Rangers'  are  ordered  to  cover 
the  pike  and  fall  back  on  Warrenton — so  the  lieuten 
ant  told  me  when  I  got  in  with  despatches.  He  told 
me  to  take  a  fresh  horse  and  ride  up  to  you." 

Falconer  opened  his  letter  slowly. 

"  What  troops  have  we  out  towards  the  front  now  ?" 

"  None,  sir,  north  of  the  Warrenton  pike  at  Grove- 


164  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

ton.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  the  Yankees  pushed 
through  Aldie,  everything  was  ordered  down  to  con 
front  the  other  column  ;  but  they're  too  heavy  for  us, 
and  our  whole  force  is  falling  back  to  Gainesville  now 
— and  won't  stop  there." 

"  By  Jove  !  Then  there's  nothing  between  us  and 
Sudley  Springs  yonder?" 

"  None  of  our  people,  captain." 

"  Miss  Armistead,  I  must  see  the  judge  one  moment, 
and  then  hasten  away  to  join  my  men.  This  is  just 
what  I  have  dreaded.  Sergeant,  mount  your  horse 
and  lead  mine  out  on  the  road.  I  will  join  you  in  a 
moment." 

Five  minutes  later  he  came  hurriedly  forth.  It  was 
nearly  dark,  and  Hannah  placed  a  dim  light  on  a  table 
in  the  hall.  Old  Nelse  came  staggering  through  with 
his  arms  filled  with  firewood,  and  nearly  collided  with 
the  captain.  Anxious  to  send  her  message  to  Henry, 
yet  unwilling  to  have  the  servants  suspect  her  appre- 
hensiveness,  Miss  Armistead  motioned  to  Falconer  to 
go  on. 

"  I  will  accompany  you  to  the  gate,"  she  said,  as 
they  descended  the  steps.  "  Tell  me,  does  your  letter 
say  whether  this  is  a  large  force — one  that  will  hold 
the  neighborhood  for  any  length  of  time  ?" 

"  I  fear  so.     It  looks  so." 

"  Then  put  Henry  on  his  guard.  I  had  written  to 
him  to  come  at  all  hazards  before  the  end  of  the  month. 
Now  I  can  no  longer  communicate  with  him.  Warn 
him  not  to  make  any  attempt  until  the  way  is  clear. 
Adieu — and  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 


"  The  next  instant  a  tall  figure  burst  through  the  hedge  close  by 
her  side  and  stood  silently  before  her." 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  165 

She  turned,  trying  not  to  see  his  outstretched  hand; 
then,  relenting,  placed  hers  one  instant  in  his,  and  re 
gretted  it,  for  he  quickly  bent  and  kissed  it  fervently, 
then  sprang  into  saddle  and  spurred  rapidly  away. 

The  next  instant  a  tall  figure  burst  through  the 
hedge  close  by  her  side,  and  stood  silently  before  her. 
One  quick  glance  was  enough.  Despite  the  felt  hat 
pulled  low  over  his  brow ;  despite  the  full  beard  and 
the  shrouding  cloak  in  which  he  was  enveloped,  she 
knew  him.  instantly — her  lover,  her  rescued  one,  her 
patient  of  the  year  agone — and  despite  herself  a  low, 
glad  cry  leaped  from  her  lips  ;  her  heart  gave  a  great 
bound  as  she  impulsively  threw  herself  towards  him  ; 
then  she  stopped  short  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,"  were  the  words  that  greeted  her.  "  I 
could  not  bear  it  any  longer.  I  had  to  see  you  again 
or  go  mad.  It  is  best  so,  I  suppose.  Tell  me — that 
was  Captain  Falconer,  was  it  not  ?" 

She  looked  up  startled.  She  hardly  knew  his  voice; 
it  was  so  changed — so  stern,  so  sad. 


XYI. 

FOR  the  second  time  there  was  trouble  for  Kearny's 
friends  at  court,  and  the  Jersey  delegation,  between 
the  War  Department  and  the  police,  were  having  rather 
a  solemn  experience.  Five  days  had  elapsed  ;  the  web 
of  circumstantial  evidence  had  been  woven  still  more 
closely  about  the  name  of  the  missing  officer,  and  no 
one  could  be  found  who  had  the  faintest  clew  to  his 
whereabouts.  On  the  sixth  day  after  Mullane's  death 
there  came  a  new  actor  on  the  scene  in  the  person  of 
Captain  Dayton,  and  Dayton  had  been  making  some 
investigations  at  Acquia,  and  on  the  way  up  the  river. 
He  had  a  theory  of  his  own  regarding  the  matter — so 
he  told  his  colonel — and  had  succeeded  in  getting  a 
few  days'  "  leave  "  to  consult  certain  officials  at  the 
capital. 

Meantime  there  had  been  coming  from  the  front  all 
manner  of  tales  of  great  doings  on  the  part  of  the 
two  cavalry  columns  pushed  out  in  hopes  of  capturing 
Mosby.  They  had  not  caught  him — that  would  have 
been  too  much  to  expect — but  they  had  chased  the 
Confederates  well  back  beyond  the  mountain-passes  ; 
had  had  some  sharp  fighting,  and  claimed  to  have  made 
some  important  captures.  The  prisoners  were  being 
sent  in  under  guard  as  the  despatches  were  penned. 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  167 

All  these  were  newspaper  reports,  however,  and  made 
mainly  to  sell.  In  the  long  period  of  inaction  while 
the  two  armies  were  hibernating  in  Virginia  there  had 
been  little  or  nothing  to  chronicle,  and  the  correspond 
ents  of  the  press  as  a  consequence  had  been  nearly  at 
their  wits'  ends.  Now  they  were  rushing  despatches 
through,  filled  with  graphic  details  of  brilliant  cavalry 
dashes  and  spirited  combats  in  front  of  Vienna  and 
Fairfax,  and  lauding  to  the  skies  the  prowess  and  valor 
of  certain  new  regiments  that  up  to  this  moment  had 
seen  no  service  whatever,  and  yet  were  by  no  means 
averse  to  appearing  as  the  heroes  of  the  occasion.  The 
arrival  of  the  newspapers  in  the  camps  at  Belle  Plain 
and  along  the  Rappahannock  provoked  no  little  deris 
ion  among  the  veterans  there  assembled,  since  old  war- 
dogs  are  always  sceptical  as  to  the  unaided  success  of 
the  puppies.  Nevertheless  there  was  some  credence 
attached  to  the  stories  as  read  around  the  fires  of  the 

New  Jersey,  for  one  of  the  officers  prominently 

mentioned  as  commanding  one  column  had  served  as 
their  senior  major  in  '61,  and  was  now  full  colonel  of 
a  new  regiment.  Under  Graham's  leadership  anything 
might  be  possible,  and  everybody  waited  for  Graham's 
official  report.  One  thing  was  certain,  our  cavalry, 
for  the  time  being  at  least,  held  the  gaps  through 
the  Bull  Run  Mountains,  and  Mosby  had  gone  else 
where. 

The  first  report  that  came  from  Colonel  Graham 
was  one  that  gave  rise  to  some  consternation  at  the 
War  Department ;  and  as  Graham  was  a  New  Jersey 
man,  it  happened  that  some  of  Kearny's  friends,  in 


168  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

their  inquiries  at  the  adjutant -general's  office,  were 
favored  with  its  contents.  Dayton  was  not  among 
them,  and  he  only  heard  of  it  later.  It  seems  that  the 
colonel  had  set  forth  with  every  hope  and  expectation 
of  capturing  the  partisan  leader  himself,  and  punish 
ing  severely  his  command.  He  knew  the  very  house 
in  which  the  renowned  raider  was  to  spend  the  night ; 
he  had  accurate  maps,  and  full  and  reliable  informa 
tion  as  to  the  position  and  numbers  of  the  various 
outposts  as  well  as  of  the  main  body.  He  had  given 
no  sign  of  a  move  that  night,  but,  after  the  usual  trum 
pet  calls  for  tattoo  and  taps,  had  saddled  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  at  midnight  had  surrounded  the  indicated  build 
ing  only  to  find  that  his  bird  had  flown,  and  with  him 
all  his  troops.  Their  flight  had  been  hurried,  but  as 
the  advance  was  rapid  they  could  not  have  slipped 
away  except  by  the  receipt  of  timely  warning  ;  and 
this  warning,  he  wrote,  could  have  been  given  them 
by  a  certain  man  in  civilian  dress — a  tall,  bearded  fel 
low  whom  he  well  remembered  as  having  been  a  scout 
or  secret-service  employee  in  the  Bull  Run  campaign 
of  the  previous  year,  and  who  even  then  was  looked 
upon  with  some  suspicion.  His  knowledge  of  the  coun 
try  seemed  so  perfect,  and  his  acquaintance  with  every 
household,  so  far  as  their  names  and  numbers  were 
concerned,  so  accurate,  that  it  was  considered  rather 
remarkable  that  one  who  claimed  to  have  been  long  a 
resident  among  these  people  should  now  be  serving 
their  enemies.  Furthermore,  it  was  remembered  of 
him  that  he  rode  to  and  fro,  by  day  or  night,  all  over 
the  country,  and  was  never  molested.  It  was  hardly 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  169 

possible  that  the  Virginians  had  not  an  inkling  of  his 
connection  with  the  government  service,  and  it  was 
extraordinary  that,  knowing  the  nature  of  the  duties 
he  was  supposed  to  be  performing,  they  did  not  string 
him  up  by  the  neck  to  the  nearest  tree.  For  several 
months,  wrote  Graham,  he  had  lost  sight  of  the  man, 
but  remembered  him  the  instant  he  was  brought  into 
his  presence  the  night  of  the  advance — remembered 
him  despite  marked  changes  in  his  appearance,  for  a 
heavy,  bushy  beard  now  covered  the  sallow  face  and 
"lantern  jaws"  of  the  previous  year.  It  seems  that 
he  had  been  halted  by  the  outermost  sentries,  and  held 
until  the  head  of  column  came  up,  and  he  was  disposed 
to  be  very  indignant  at  such  treatment.  His  papers 
were  beyond  question.  There  they  were,  all  neatly 
filed  in  a  big,  flat  pocket-book — his  orders,  his  passes, 
certain  letters  of  instruction,  and  even  a  sort  of  circu 
lar  "  to-whom-it-may-concern  "  commission,  which  en 
joined  all  officers  to  give  the  bearer  ("  whose  signature 
will  be  found  to  correspond  with  that  exhibited  here- 
on  ")  every  facility  in  their  power,  and  permit  him  to 
pass  to  and  fro  without  delay. 

Despite  these  papers,  Graham's  mind  was  not  set  at 
rest.  The  man  had  been  held  by  the  outposts  because 
he  was  seen  galloping  through  a  little  winding  lane 
among  the  trees  beside  the  pike,  instead  of  holding 
to  the  road  itself.  He  was  nervous,  excited,  eager 
to  push  ahead,  and  it  was  his  manner  that  made  the 
guards  suspicious.  After  carefully  reading  his  papers 
by  the  light  of  a  little  camp  lantern,  Graham  required 
him  to  affix  his  signature  to  the  page,  and  though 


170  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

somewhat  hasty  and  tremulous,  there  could  be  no 
doubt  that  the  "  William  L.  Tierney "  in  the  exhibit 
of  the  War  Department  and  that  thus  hurriedly 
scrawled  at  the  outskirts  of  Fairfax  were  written  by 
the  same  hand.  The  colonel  bade  him  mount  and 
accompany  the  headquarters  party,  explaining  that 
"  as  they  were  going  the  same  way  they  might  as  well 
ride  together,"  and  Tierney  seemed  to  want  to  protest, 
but  apparently  thinking  better  of  it,  "fell  in"  behind 
the  staff  and  trotted  along  with  them.  The  night  was 
very  dark,  and  in  not  more  than  ten  minutes  he  had 
disappeared.  It  was  probable  that  he  took  advantage 
of  the  intricacies  of  a  cut  through  a  piece  of  woods 
to  slip  away,  strike  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  put  a  mile 
or  more  between  himself  and  the  column  before  his 
absence  was  noted.  At  all  events,  he  had  not  been 
seen  from  that  time  to  this,  and  Graham  believed  that 
he  was  playing  a  double  game. 

But  the  chief  of  the  secret  service  could  not  harbor 
such  a  thought  for  a  moment.  When  Graham's  letter 
was  shown  him  he  proceeded  to  say  that  there  always 
had  been  a  jealousy  between  the  cavalry  and  his  scouts. 
The  officers  and  men  could  not  but  envy  the  "roving 
commissions  "  granted  the  latter,  and  it  was  true  that 
the  scouts  were  prone  to  put  on  airs  at  times  and  give 
offence.  "  But  Tierney's  an  invaluable  man,"  he  said; 
"  he  was  raised  in  Prince  William  County,  and  knows 
every  family  in  it ;  he  was  a  wild  fellow,  and  ran  away 
from  home  and  enlisted  in  the  army,  and  has  served 
two  years  in  the  cavalry.  I  got  him  discharged  in  the 
fall  of  '61  purposely  to  put  him  on  this  duty,  but  after 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  171 

second  Bull  Run  he  told  me  the  people  were  begin 
ning  to  know  him,  and  it  might  be  well  if  he  made 
himself  scarce  for  a  while  ;  so  I  had  him  transferred 
to  duty  hereabouts,  and  on  the  Eastern  Shore  a  while, 
then  put  him  on  the  quartermaster's  boat  to  look  after 
certain  matters  the  Secretary  of  War  desired  to  have 
watched ;  even  the  officers  of  the  boat  thought  him  a 
clerk  detailed  to  keep  track  of  the  stores,  and  he  has 
been  most  efficient — just  the  man  for  the  place,  the 
Secretary  says — and  it  would  astonish  some  officers  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  see  how  much  he  knows 
about  them  and  their  opinions.  Oh,  it  isn't  nice  duty,  I 
admit ;  but  some  one  had  to  do  it — the  Secretary  can 
satisfy  you  as  to  that — and  I  put  Tierney  at  it,"  ex 
claimed  the  chief,  in  conclusion.  Questioned  by  the  ad 
jutant-general  as  to  the  authority  given  him  to  leave  the 
steamer  and  go  into  Virginia  again,  the  chief  replied 
that  Tierney  had  a  sweetheart  down  near  Manassas 
Junction,  and  he  presumed  that,  hearing  of  the  for 
ward  move  of  the  cavalry,  he  had  seized  that  oppor 
tunity  to  run  out  and  visit  her.  There  was  no  time 
for  formal  application  for  permission,  and  it  never  had 
been  customary.  The  secret-service  men  had  to  be 
trusted,  or  they  were  of  no  use.  Tierney  would  turn 
up  in  a  day  or  two,  and  come  in  full  of  valuable  infor 
mation,  and  completely  vindicate  himself. 

But  there  were  some  among  the  few  officers  present 
at  this  conference  who  did  not  share  the  confidence  of 
the  chief,  and  it  was  found  that  some  subordinates  in 
the  department  had  long  been  suspicious  that  all  was 
not  square  with  Tierney.  They  said  he  was  a  gambler 


172  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

and  an  associate  of  gamblers,  and  that  he  had  some 
intimacies  among  a  low  class  of  men  in  the  army  that 
were  impairing  his  usefulness.  There  was  a  time  in 
'62  when  he  was  drinking  hard,  and  possibly  the  gen 
tlemen  from  New  Jersey  might  be  interested  in  know 
ing  that  it  was  Tierney's  babbling  that  gave  rise  to 
the  first  stories  at  the  expense  of  Lieutenant  Kearny 
the  year  before.  He  had  been  drinking  and  playing 
cards  with  Mullane,  and  it  was  he  who  was  reluctantly 
compelled  to  admit  that  he  was  Mullane's  authority," 
and  it  was  he  who  guided  the  major  and  the  adjutant 
on  their  memorable  visit  to  Hopeville. 

It  was  a  pity  Dayton  could  not  have  been  there  to 
hear  this  story.  Then  came  tidings  from  the  other 
column — that  which  had  passed  through  Aldie  Gap 
and  swooped  down  upon  the  roads  in  rear  of  Thoro'- 
fare  in  hopes  of  cutting  Mosby's  retreat  should  he 
escape  the  clutches  of  Graham's  command.  They  had 
had  but  poor  luck  despite  the  flourish  of  trumpets  with 
which  the  papers  had  hailed  their  "  storming  of  the 
pass"  and  capture  of  important  prisoners  and  docu 
ments.  The  pass  in  question  was  watched  by  a  small 
troop  of  Virginians,  perhaps  forty  in  all,  but  they 
made  things  lively  for  the  head  of  that  blue  column, 
and  it  was  only  at  the  cost  of  much  smoke,  noise,  and 
expenditure  of  carbine  ammunition  that  the  little  band 
was  induced  to  fall  back,  leaving  their  dead  and  wound 
ed  among  the  rocks  by  the  roadside  where  they  fell. 
Then  the  pass  was  stormed  in  great  shape,  and  the 
new  regiment  went  "charging"  through  in  column  of 
fours,  cheering  lustily  and  brandishing  their  sabres, 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  173 

and  finally  reining  up  and  unsaddling  on  the  other 
side,  while  the  colonel  made  his  enthusiastic  followers 
a  congratulatory  speech,  and  then  sat  him  down  to 
write  his  despatches  to  the  War  Department,  not  for 
getting  one  or  two  highly  picturesque  descriptions  for 
the  benefit  of  the  local  papers  of  the  counties  from 
which  they  hailed.  Meantime,  of  course,  the  Virgin 
ians  were  riding  rapidly  down  the  westward  valley, 
giving  warning  of  the  coming  of  the  "  Yanks  ;"  and 
when  the  despatches  were  finished  and  the  column 
one  more  en  route,  pretty  much  everything  and  every 
body  worth  capture  was  spirited  out  of  the  way. 
When  the  command  reached  the  road  that  night,  late, 
it  was  only  to  learn  that  they  were  much  too  late. 
Mosby  had  given  them  the  slip. 

Of  course  the  colonel  could  account  for  it.  The  coun 
try  was  overrun,  he  wrote,  with  spies  and  scouts  in  civil 
ian  dress.  These  men  were  mounted  on  fleet  horses,  and 
despite  the  rapidity  with  which  he  advanced  they  car 
ried  in  every  direction  the  tidings  of  his  coming.  There 
was  reason  to  believe,  he  said,  that  several  of  these 
men  thus  disguised  were  officers  of  the  Confederate 
army  visiting  their  homes  and  families  on  brief  fur 
loughs,  or  possibly  sent  thither  for  the  purpose  of 
watching  the  movements  of  the  cavalry.  He  urgently 
recommended  that  strict  orders  be  issued  that  all  men 
found  within  the  lines  of  the  advancing  force  be  ar 
rested  and  tried  by  drumhead  court-martial  as  spies. 
The  colonel  was  a  man  of  much  political  influence  at 
home,  and  his  opinions  and  recommendations — good, 
bad,  or  absurd — could  be  treated  only  with  deference. 


1Y4  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

The  War  Department  issued  no  new  orders,  but  the 
colonel  was  authorized  by  a  letter,  sent  within  a  few 
days,  to  make  an  example,  if  necessary,  of  Confederate 
spies,  but  he  was  warned  to  exercise  caution  in  the 
matter,  and  be  sure  that  the  persons  taken  in  civilian 
dress  or  other  disguise  were  bond  fide  officers  of  the 
Confederate  service,  and  within  our  lines  for  treason 
able  or  unlawful  purpose. 

When  this  letter  reached  the  colonel  he  was  com 
manding  a  force  of  some  two  thousand  cavalry  holding 
the  gaps  of  the  Bull  Run  Mountains  and  scouring  the 
adjacent  country.  He  was  for  the  time  being  his  own 
master,  and  virtually  in  charge  of  a  district  in  the  ene 
my's  country.  For  Colonel  Graham,  his  superior  in 
both  rank  and  experience,  disappointed  at  the  failure 
of  his  expedition,  and  attributing  much  of  his  lack  of 
success  to  the  junior's  delays,  had  gladly  left  him  at 
Thoro'fare,  while  he  with  nearly  three  thousand  sabres 
at  his  heels  went  clattering  off  to  Front  Royal  in  pur 
suit  of  Mosby. 

An  ardent  patriot  was  the  soldier  left  behind.  Trea 
son  was  to  him  a  thing  to  be  made  odious,  and  no 
man,  woman,  or  child  whose  sympathies  were  with  the 
Southern  troops  could  be  anything  less  than  a  traitor, 
and  a  menace  to  the  security  of  the  state.  Nothing 
short  of  summary  execution  was,  in  his  private  opin 
ion,  the  proper  method  of  convincing  such  people  of 
the  error  of  their  ways.  It  boded  ill  for  the  already 
sore  afflicted  household  at  Hopeville  Gap  that  they 
should  find  themselves  all  of  a  sudden  placed  under 
the  surveillance  of  a  soldier  whose  soul  was  burn- 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  175 

ing  with  zeal  to  uphold  the  supremacy  of  the  law, 
but  who  preferred  to  crush  the  rebellion  by  extreme 
measures  at  the  fireside  rather  than  to  face  it  in  the 
field. 

And  now,  while  Graham  was  beyond  communication 
except  by  courier,  there  came  to  Washington  a  genu 
ine  surprise  in  the  shape  of  a  paragraph  in  his  second 
report — a  brief  summary  sent  from  White  Plains — of 
the  result  of  his  dash  at  the  gaps  after  the  escape  of 
Mosby.  There  had,  indeed,  been  some  spirited  cavalry 
fighting  in  his  column,  and  an  entire  battalion  of  Vir 
ginia  troopers  had  been  cut  off,  surrounded,  and  cap 
tured  near  Groveton.  Captain  Dayton,  who  was  still  in 
Washington,  was  hurriedly  summoned,  together  with 
two  Jersey  legislators,  to  the  office  of  the  adjutant- 
general. 

"  Listen  to  this,"  said  that  perplexed  functionary, 
"  and  tell  me,  if  you  can,  what  it  means  : 

"  '  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  add,'  writes  Colonel  Gra 
ham,  after  detailing  his  capture  of  the Virginia 

Cavalry  between  Groveton  and  Haymarket,  *  that  this 
success  was  mainly  due  to  the  presence  of  my  former 
regimental  comrade,  now  Major  Frank  Kearny,  of  the 
New  Jersey,  who,  having  a  brief  leave  of  ab 
sence,  joined  me  as  a  volunteer  at  Centre ville,  and  his 
accurate  and  intricate  knowledge  of  the  roads  enabled 
him  to  plan  and  carry  out  the  surrounding  of  the  rebel 
force.  It  was  he  who  guided  the  turning  column  to 
their  rear ;  and  the  officers  unite  in  praise  of  the  brill 
iant  and  daring  manner  in  which  he  led  the  charge 
that  broke  their  line.'  Now,  gentlemen,  who  can  ex- 


176  BETWEEN    THE   LINES. 

plain  this  freak  of  Major  Kearny's  ;  and  who  can  tell 
where  to  find  him?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  wondering  silence,  then  Cap 
tain  Dayton  spoke  : 

"  I  believe  I  can,  sir." 


XVII. 

THE  night  of  Frank  Kearny's  sudden  reappearance 
at  Hopeville  was  one  that  Lucy  Armistead  has  never 
yet  forgotten.  Probably  she  never  will.  For  a  few 
moments  after  asking  the  abrupt  question  about  the 
officer  who  had  just  ridden  away,  he  stood  in  silence, 
gazing  into  the  darkness,  as  though  longing  to  see  the 
man  once  more.  He  was  breathing  heavily,  as  though 
wearied  by  recent  exertion,  and  the  sigh  with  which 
he  turned  aside  spoke  of  utter  dejection.  Anxiously 
she  scanned  his  face,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to  avoid 
hers.  Then,  as  though  nerved  to  sudden  action,  he 
quickly  stepped  to  the  gateway,  and  stood  one  mo 
ment  listening.  Then  he  abruptly  spoke : 

"  I  left  my  horse  at  the  foot  of  the  pathway  leading 
down  through  the  wood.  May  I  ask  you  to  send 
Nelse  for  him  ?  And  now  I  have  business  of  impor 
tance  with  the  judge.  Can  I  see  him  ?" 

"  He  will  be  rejoiced  to  see  you — but — you  look  so 
worn,  so  ill  ?  Have  you  not  overtaxed  your  strength  ? 
Is  there  not  grave  hazard  in  coming  hither  ?" 

"I  came  because  I  could  not   live   and  not  look 

upon  your  face  again.     Even  though  I  know  now 

that  it  is  as  you  said — there  was  another — I  had  to 

come.     Now  I  have  seen.     I  must  go.    Five  minutes' 

12 


178  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

talk  with  your  father  will  be  enough — and  then — it 
is  good-bye." 

He  half  turned  towards  the  house,  then  back  to 
where  she  stood  silent,  wondering,  and  here  he  bent 
as  though  for  one  last  look  into  her  eyes.  The  sight 
of  her  sweet,  pale  face,  so  wan,  so  pathetic,  and  yet  so 
lovely,  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  He  had  left  her 
when  weak,  broken  down  with  wounds,  illness,  and 
sorrow.  He  returned  to  her  stalwart,  bearded,  a  model 
of  soldierly  grace  and  strength  ;  yet  his  voice  was  full 
of  a  weight  of  trouble  that  wore  heavily  upon  him. 
His  eyes  gazed  one  instant  into  hers,  then,  as  though 
utterly  overcome  by  the  force  and  vehemence  of  his 
love,  he  suddenly  clasped  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and, 
straining  her  slender  form  to  his  breast,  his  lips  rained 
kiss  after  kiss  upon  the  rippling  hair  and  smooth  white 
forehead.  "  Oh,  God  !  how  I  loved  you  !"  was  his  one 
smothered  cry ;  and  then,  almost  rudely,  he  cast  her 
from  him,  turned  sharply  away,  and  hastened  to  the 
house. 

For  a  few  moments  she  stayed  there,  leaning  against 
the  gate-post,  breathless,  startled,  and  unnerved.  Not 
until  she  could  regain  her  self-control  did  she  attempt 
to  enter  the  hall.  Then,  sending  Hannah  for  Nelse 
with  orders  to  bring  Mr.  Kearny's  horse  from  the 
lower  field,  she  shut  herself  in  her  room.  She  could 
hear  the  voices  of  the  two  men  before  she  closed  the 
door :  her  father's,  so  weak  and  broken,  apparently  in 
vehement  protest ;  her  lover's,  deep,  strong,  earnest, 
yet  with  such  weariness  and  sorrow  in  it.  Then  sud 
denly  the  door  closed  heavily  ;  spurred  boot-heels 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  179 

clinked  through  the  hall  and  descended  the  steps, 
where  there  was  brief  pause  and  a  word  with  Nelse. 
Then  hoof -beats  in  the  yard  below,  down  the  neg 
lected  drive,  out  to  the  road  beyond,  and  he  was  gone 
• — gone  without  another  word  to  her.  She  sat  there 
in  her  cold,  dark  room,  shivering.  Then  Nelse's  voice 
was  heard  calling  her  name,  and  she  knew  her  father 
had  need  of  her.  Down  the  stairs  she  found  the  old 
darky  with  his  eyes  fairly  starting  from  his  head,  hold 
ing  out  to  her  half  a  dozen  Treasury  notes — money 
such  as  he  had  never  seen,  yet  well  imagined  the  value 
of — that  had  been  thrust  into  his  hands  as  the  major 
rode  away;  and  in  the  study  she  found  her  father, 
seated  before  his  open  fireplace,  trembling,  agitated, 
and  vainly  striving  to  read  a  letter  by  the  flickering 
light,  while  in  the  torn  envelope  on  the  table  by  his 
side  she  could  see  a  packet  of  similar  Treasury  notes, 
left,  evidently,  by  the  same  lavish  hand. 

"Read  it  for  me,  daughter;  I  cannot,"  he  said, 
feebly.  "He  has  been  most  kind,  most  thoughtful, 
but  of  course  he  could  not  be  made  to  understand  that 
it  is  all  out  of  the  question — out  of  the  question.  » We 
can  accept  no  man's  bounty,  much  less  one  of  that 
uniform." 

Obediently  she  took  the  sheet,  and,  sitting  at  his 
feet,  where  the  firelight  fell  upon  the  page,  she  read 
these  lines  : 

"I  write  because  it  may  be  impossible  to  see  you — 
impossible  to  explain.  No  words  can  tell  you  the  depth 
of  my  gratitude  for  the  tender  care  and  the  infinite 
kindness  shown  me  under  your  roof.  I  dare  not  con- 


180  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

jecture  what  it  may  have  cost  or  may  yet  cost  you 
among  your  own  people.  In  kind,  it  will  be  beyond 
my  power  to  repay  you,  nor  do  I  know  that  in  any 
way  such  repayment  can  adequately  be  made;  but,  my 
kind  and  generous  host,  it  is  necessary  for  my  own 
peace  of  mind  that  in  some  way  I  attempt  to  show  my 
appreciation.  Forgive  this  intrusion  into  your  person 
al  affairs.  I  could  not  but  know  that  the  very  neces 
saries  of  life  are  hard  to  be  obtained  even  where  money 
was  in  abundance,  and  I  am  tortured  by  a  fear  that 
your  means  have  been  grievously  straitened  by  the 
unhappy  strife  between  the  sections.  This  money 
burns  my  hand.  I  implore  you  to  take  it,  use  it,  con 
sider  it  a  loan  if  you  will  not  otherwise  accept  it.  I 
ask  it  for  your  own  sake,  for  Henry's  sake,  nay,  more, 
for  the  sake  of  her  whose  name  I  cannot  breathe  with 
out  a  blessing,  whose — whose — ' " 

She  hesitated,  her  head  drooped  lower,  a  wave  of 
color  surged  up  over  the  lovely  face,  and,  hiding  it 
from  his  eyes,  she  held  forth  the  letter  with  shaking 
hand. 

"  I — I  cannot  read  it  further.  There  is  only  a  little 
more." 

He  took  it  slowly,  waiting  until  he  could  brush  the 
moisture  from  his  eyes.  Presently  she  rose  from  her 
stooping  posture,  lighted  a  candle  and  placed  it  by  his 
side,  then  quickly  sped  from  the  room.  Slowly  he 
found  the  place  where  she  had  ceased. 

"  — whose  welfare  and  happiness  must  ever,  hence 
forth,  outweigh  any  earthly  consideration  except  the 
duty  I  owe  to  my  country.  Sir,  though  she  has  taught 


BETWEEN  THE   LIXES.  181 

me  its  utter  hopelessness,  I  love  your  daughter,  and 
shall  love  her  to  my  life's  end." 

An  hour  later,  when  she  stole  noiselessly  into  the 
room,  the  old  gentleman  was  sitting  there  in  the  flick 
ering  light,  almost  as  she  had  left  him.  He  had  ex 
tinguished  the  candle,  for  candles  were  already  as 
precious  and  scarce  as  the  coarse  currency  that  formed 
the  one  circulating  medium  in  the  country  towns. 
Kearny's  letter  was  still  in  his  hand,  and  on  the  table 
by  his  side  was  the  package  of  Treasury  notes,  unbro 
ken.  She  bent  and  kissed  his  forehead  and  the  gray 
curling  locks  above,  but  said  no  word. 

"Daughter,"  he  presently  spoke,  "you  will  find 
some  large  envelopes  in  the  lower  drawer  of  my  desk. 
Give  me  one,  dear." 

Silently  she  obeyed  him.  Then  he  took  the  "  green 
backs,"  still  in  unbroken  package  and  more  than  half 
hidden  in  what  remained  of  the  torn  wrapper;  care 
fully  stowed  the  entire  packet  away  in  the  heavy, 
lawyer-like  envelope  she  gave  him;  then  asked  for 
light,  his  heavy  seal  and  the  wax  from  their  nook  in 
the  old-fashioned  desk.  Sealing  the  packet  with  prac 
tised  yet  tremulous  hand,  he  then  carefully  "  docketed  " 
the  thick  paper  with  the  date  and  the  major's  name, 
then  looked  up  into  her  eyes. 

"  He  meant  well,  dear.  It  was  natural  that  he  should 
seek  some  way  to  be  of  service  to  us,  but  we  cannot 
touch  his  money — we  Armisteads.  Hide  it  somewhere 
where  it  will  be  safe  until  it  can  be  returned  to  him 
by  trusty  hands.  He  will  not  come  again,  daughter; 
he  will  not  come  again." 


182  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

That  night,  when  Hannah  knocked  twice  at  the  door 
of  her  young  mistress  and  could  get  no  answer,  she 
softly  entered  and  found  her,  not  asleep,  but  lying  on 
the  little  white  bed,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would 
break. 

Stirring  trumpet-calls  roused  the  echoes  of  the 
heights  at  early  dawn,  and  when  the  little  household 
peered  from  the  windows  they  found  the  fields  at  the 
foot  of  the  slope  all  alive  with  horsemen  in  light  blue 
overcoats.  For  two  days  there  remained  in  camp  there 
a  force  of  perhaps  three  squadrons;  while  others,  ap 
parently  of  the  same  regiment,  were  posted  high  up 
in  the  Gap  or  patrolled  the  roads  to  north  and  south. 
The  commanding  officer,  with  others,  twice  called  at 
the  homestead  and  asked  to  see  the  judge,  and  as  he 
was  too  feeble  and  ill  to  be  disturbed,  they  inquired 
on  their  second  visit  for  "the  lady  of  the  house," 
whom  Hannah  vainly  sought  to  excuse.  Miss  Armis- 
tead  would  gladly  have  avoided  an  interview,  but  the 
lieutenant-colonel  commanding  sent  up  his  card,  and 
courteously  requested  that  she  would  see  him,  as  he 
had  orders  to  communicate  to  some  responsible  mem 
ber  of  the  family.  Determined  to  shield  her  father 
from  every  possible  annoyance,  she  descended  the  stairs 
and  found  her  visitors  standing  in  the  hall.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  light  was  dim. 

"Will  you  step  into  the  sitting-room?"  she  said. 
"The  servant  should  have  shown  you  there.  We 
have  no  parlor." 

"  The  servant  did  so,  madam,"  said  the  elder  of  the 
two  officers,  "but  explained  that  she  had  no  light,  and 


BETWEEN  THE    LINES.  183 

we  did  not  wish  to  intrude  more  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.  I  called  earlier  in  the  day,  but  was  unsuc 
cessful  ;  now  I  had  no  choice  but  to  persist.  Pardon 
me,  may  I  ask  who  it  is  whom  I  have  the  honor  of 
addressing  ?" 

The  lieutenant-colonel  was  a  stately  gentleman  of 
over  fifty  years,  and  he  spoke  with  a  slightly  foreign 
accent.  It  was  evident  that  he  wished  to  behave  with 
all  the  consideration  and  courtesy  possible,  and  Miss 
Armistead  failed  to  experience  the  feeling  of  repug 
nance  which,  a  year  or  two  before,  she  was  sure  would 
manifest  itself  at  the  appearance  of  a  "  Yankee."  She 
answered  coldly,  as  became  a  daughter  of  Virginia, 
yet  she  liked  the  old  soldier's  manner. 

"  I  am  Miss  Armistead,"  she  answered.  "  My  father 
is  in  feeble  health,  and  I  seek  to  spare  him  any  care  or 
worry.  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  had 
orders  to  carry  out,  and  that  they  concerned  us  in  any 
way  ?" 

"  I  deeply  regret  that  such  is  the  case,  Miss  Armis 
tead  " — and  both  officers  were  evidently  trying  to  see 
as  much  of  the  fair  face  before  them  as  the  dim  light 
permitted.  "  Orders  which  are  imperative  in  their  tone 
have  reached  me  this  day  from  the  officer  commanding 
all  the  Union  forces  now  serving  in  this  neighborhood. 
He  has  information,  he  says,  that  several  officers  of  the 
Southern  army,  whose  homes  are  in  Fauquier  and 
Prince  William  counties,  are  now  somewhere  about 
here.  One  has  already  been  found,  and  among  those 
believed  to  be  hiding  near  at  hand  is  Captain  Henry 
Armistead,  of  Stuart's  cavalry — your  brother,  I  fear. 


184  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

It  is  most  distressing  to  me  to  have  to  communicate  this 
to  one  so  young,  so  fair,  so  apparently  unprotected," 
went  on  the  gallant  old  dragoon,  "but  I  am  ordered 
to  make  strict  search  and  to  maintain  a  vigilant  guard 
over  the  premises." 

Lucy's  heart  sank  within  her.  She  knew  how  it 
would  affect  her  father — it  was  her  one  thought  now. 
She  dreaded  to  think  of  the  risk  Henry  would  run  if, 
despite  the  verbal  caution  she  had  charged  Falconer  to 
give  him,  he  obeyed  the  summons  in  the  letter  she  had 
earlier  written.  Resistance,  protestation,  she  knew, 
would  be  useless.  Frankness  and  courtesy  might  dis 
arm  even  the  enemy  when  he  came  in  such  courtly 
shape  as  that  before  her. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  consideration  you  show  us, 
sir,"  was  therefore  her  reply.  "My  brother  is  not 
here,  if  my  word  will  suffice  and  save  my  father's  pri 
vacy  from  disturbance;  but  there  shall  be  no  hinder- 
ance  to  making  your  search  as  thorough  as  you  deem 
necessary.  When  will  you  begin  ?" 

"  That,  at  least,  I  reserve  to  myself,  Miss  Armistead. 
My  orders  did  not  say  immediate  search,  and — it  shall 
be  at  your  convenience.  My  sentries,  of  course,  were 
early  posted  so  that  none  could  pass  in  or  out;  and  if 
you  will  kindly  say  how  soon  we  may  begin — I  fear  it 
must  be  this  evening — I  will  myself  be  present,  and 
you  can  rest  assured  that  no  intrusion  will  afterwards 
be  allowed.  Who  are  you,  sir  ?"  he  said,  sharply,  and 
turned  in  evident  indignation  upon  a  distinguished- 
looking  officer  who  had  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door 
way.  "I  gave  orders  that  no  officer  or  man  was  to 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  185 

enter  here  without  my  authority.  I  do  not  know  your 
face.  What  is  your  regiment  ?" 

a  The New  Jersey,  colonel,"  responded  the  offi 
cer,  saluting,  "  which  will  account  for  my  not  know 
ing  that  you  had  given  such  orders.  I  am  Captain 
Dayton,  sir,  and  have  just  arrived,  from  Washington. 
These  papers  will  explain  the  object  of  my  journey, 
but,  as  it  is  too  dark  for  you  to  read  them,  let  me  say 
briefly  that  I  am  sent  to  find  Major  Kearny,  who  is 
believed  to  have  accompanied  your  command,  and 
whom  I  hoped  to  hear  of  here  at  Judge  Armistead's." 

Lucy  started  at  the  mention  of  the  name,  and  stepped 
forward  where  she  could  more  distinctly  see  the  new 
comer. 

"  Mr. — Major  Kearny  was  here  two  nights  ago,  for 
not  more  than  ten  minutes,"  she  answered,  in  low  tone. 

"And  he  went  back  to  Washington  or  Alexandria 
the  next  morning,  captain,"  said  the  field-officer.  "  I 
saw  him  start." 

In  deep  and  evident  disappointment  the  stranger 
paused  a  moment.  "  Then  my  errand  is  fruitless,"  he 
said,  as  he  slowly  turned  away.  "  My  escort  is  tired 
with  a  long  day's  ride,  colonel,  and,  with  your  per 
mission,  we  will  bivouac  beside  your  command." 

"  By  all  means,  sir,  by  all  means.  I  will  accompany 
you  now.  Miss  Armistead,  a  thousand  regrets  for  my 
unavoidable  intrusion.  I  will  leave  my  adjutant  to 
receive  your  answer,"  and,  bowing  low,  the  courteous 
old  soldier  took  his  leave. 

An  hour  later,  in  silence  and  with  every  exertion  of 
gentleness  and  consideration,  the  searching  party — an 


186  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

officer  with  half  a  dozen  men — ransacked  every  room 
in  the  house  from  garret  to  cellar,  with  two  exceptions. 
The  colonel  forbade  their  entering  Miss  Armistead's 
or  that  of  her  father,  by  whose  side  she  had  taken  her 
place.  Underneath  the  window  other  soldiers — two 
officers,  apparently — were  talking  in  low  but  excited 
tones.  What  she  heard  nearly  froze  the  blood  in  her 
veins. 

"  I  tell  you  it  is  true.  He  was  found  dead  as  a  door 
nail,  shot  through  the  heart,  and  there's  no  doubt  that 
Kearny  was  the  murderer.  That's  what  they  want  him 
for." 


XVIII. 

Anxious  days  were  those  that  followed.  A  wet, 
cold,  driving  storm  set  in,  deluging  the  lowlands, 
turning  the  mountain  brooks  into  foaming  torrents 
and  the  country  roads  into  quagmires.  Most  depress 
ing  was  the  effect  upon  the  broken-down  old  man  who 
cowered  drooping  and  despondent  over  the  lonely 
hearthstone.  Lucy  would  not  leave,  yet  could  not 
cheer  him;  he  seemed  fallen  into  an  abyss  of  hope 
lessness  and  woe  from  which  nothing  could  rouse  him, 
and  yet  there  were  moments  when  he  became  almost 
vehement  in  obstinacy.  She  had  sought  to  induce  him 
to  remain  in  bed  the  third  morning  of  the  storm,  but 
though  he  had  passed  a  restless  night  he  was  oddly 
bent  on  being  up  and  dressed.  Nothing  would  con 
vince  him  that  Henry  was  not  coining  that  very  day; 
coming  with  friends  at  his  side  and  gallant  gray  riders 
at  his  back  to  sweep  the  range  of  their  oppressors  and 
drive  the  hated  invaders  to  the  Potomac.  Twice  on 
the  previous  day  she  had  thought  him  wandering,  and 
her  sore  heart  nearly  ceased  its  beating  at  the  mere 
suggestion  of  his  failing  now  when  it  was  beyond  hu 
man  possibility  for  Henry  to  reach  him.  Twice  or 
thrice  during  the  night  he  was  even  wilder  in  his 
words,  but  the  silent,  tearful  watcher  by  his  pillow 


188  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

tried  to  teach  herself  that  'twas  only  dreaming,  that 
the  morrow  would  bring  relief.  Once,  late  that  after 
noon,  the  strain  became  more  than  she  could  bear,  and 
seeing  the  old  cavalry  officer  on  horseback  at  the  gate, 
and  remembering  that  he  begged  her  to  believe  they 
warred  not  on  women  and  the  helpless  ones  at  home, 
and  had  urged  her  to  call  upon  him  if  he  could  be  of 
the  faintest  service,  she  asked  the  sergeant  in  charge  of 
the  guard  now  pacing  silently  around  them  to  say  to 
the  colonel  that  she  begged  to  speak  with  him.  He 
came,  the  gray-haired,  ruddy-faced  old  hero,  and,  dis 
mounting  at  the  steps,  saluted  her  as  he  would  have 
done  homage  to  a  queen.  The  sight  of  the  grief  and 
anxiety  in  her  face,  and  the  pallor,  due  to  suffering 
and  ceaseless  vigils,  went  straight  to  his  heart. 

"  Dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  "  I  beg  you  tell  me 
how  I  can  serve  you.  Think  !  yonder  across  the  Po 
tomac—only  as  far  from  it  on  that  side  as  we  are  on 
this — is  my  home,  and  there,  almost  as  lonely  as  you, 
lives  my  daughter.  I  ask  to  serve  you  in  your  dis 
tress  as  I  know  any  gentleman  in  the  gray  you  love 
would  treat  my  child  under  like  conditions.  Who 
knows  how  soon  your  battle-flags  will  be  on  our 
fields  !  Twice  already  has  your  Stuart  ridden  within 
rifle  range  of  her  windows.  Miss  Armistead,  war  is 
bitter  enough.  Do  not  make  it  worse  by  refusing  the 
little  service  we  are  permitted  to  give  !" 

In  her  loneliness  and  desolation,  who  can  blame  her 
that  the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes  ?  It  was  a  min 
ute  or  two  before  she  could  control  herself  sufficiently 
to  speak.  Two  or  three  of  the  guard  looked  curiously 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  189 

on  from  the  shelter  of  their  ponchos  as  the  old  soldier 
led  her  to  a  chair  and  bent  sympathetically  over  her. 

"  You  are  more  than  kind,"  she  answered  at  last. 
"  My  anxiety  is  all  on  my  father's  account.  He  seems 
failing  so  rapidly,  and  our  physician,  Dr.  Loring,  has 
not  been  near  us  for  days.  The  roads  are  in  dreadful 
condition,  I  know,  but  we  have  no  one  who  can  go. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  send  one  of  your  men  over  to 
him  and  beg  him  to  come  either  to-night  or  the  first 
thing  to-morrow  ?" 

The  old  dragoon's  face  was  clouded  with  sorrow  in 
a  moment. 

"  If  he  could  be  brought  to  you  by  any  act  of  mine 
I  would  send  a  guard  for  him  this  moment.  Miss 
Armistead,  I  fear  I  have  sad  news  for  you.  I  would 
go  for  him  myself,  but  it  would  be  useless.  For  some 
reason,  I  know  not  what,  Dr.  Loring  was  arrested  by 
my  superior  officer,  the  colonel  commanding  this  dis 
trict  in  the  absence  of  Colonel  Graham,  and  two  days 
ago  was  sent  to  Washington.  We  have  an  excellent 
physician  with  us — the  surgeon  of  my  regiment.  He 
will  be  up  from  Thoro'fare  before  dark;  I  pray  you 
let  me  send  him  to  your  father." 

"  Oh,  how  cruel,  how  wrong  it  seems  !  Pardon  me, 
Colonel  Westerlo,  I  ought  not  to  speak  of  it  when  you 
have  been  so  kind;  but  Dr.  Loring  was  almost  the  sole 
dependence  of  scores  of  families,  left  now  without  a 
protector;  husbands,  brothers,  fathers,  sons,  all  in  the 
army,  and  the  women  and  children  left  alone.  What 
possible  cause  could  be  assigned  ?" 

The  colonel  shrugged  his  shoulders.    "  I  know  not," 


190  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

he  said;  "  we  had  not  wars  like  this  where  first  I  drew 
the  sabre.  There  be  men  who  say  that  in  no  other 
way  can  the  South  be  brought  to  terms.  My  com 
mander  keeps  me  here  against  my  will.  I  prayed  to 
be  sent  with  the  column  to  the  Shenandoah.  I  like 
not  this  search  of  defenceless  homes,  this  warring  on 
non-combatants  at  the  rear;  but  I  can  but  obey.  His 
captures  include  but  one  officer,  I  am  told,  and  he — 
but  you  know  him,  perhaps — a  Captain  Falconer." 

"  Captain  Falconer  !"  she  faltered.  "  When — wJien 
was  he  taken  ?"  and  she  clasped  her  hand  to  her  heart; 
a  deadly  pallor  o'erspread  her  face.  What  if  he  had 
been  captured  before  sending  \varning  to  Henry  not 
to  make  the  attempt !  What  if  Henry  had  received 
only  the  hurried  letter  in  which  she  implored  him  to 
come  ! 

Westerlo  was  aghast  at  the  effect  of  his  words. 
"So?"  he  muttered  to  himself;  "and  yet  I  thought 
not  so  carpet-knight  a  soldier  could  have  won  a  heart 
like  this." 

He  bent  over  her  all  sympathy  and  sorrow. 

"  The  captain  was  taken  by  our  advance  at  Thoro'- 
fare  the  night  we  reached  there — the  night  Major 
Kearny  visited  your  father,"  he  said.  "  He  was  alone 
with  but  a  single  orderly  at  the  time.  He — he  is  per 
fectly  safe — unhurt — he  will  soon  be  exchanged.  I 
beg  you  not  to  grieve." 

But  she  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  ap 
palled  at  the  thought  of  Henry's  peril.  Now  no  word 
of  warning  could  reach  him,  and  acting  on  the  prayer 
contained  in  the  last  letter  she  had  sent  him,  he  would 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  191 

spare  no  effort,  shun  no  risk,  to  reach  his  father's  side. 
Even  though  warned  at  Hedgman  River  or  the  lower 
fords  of  the  Rappahannock  that  all  Fauquier  and  Prince 
William  counties  were  now  held  by  the  Federal  cav 
alry,  he  would  seek  his  way  by  night;  he  was  sure  to 
come. 

"  I  bitterly  regret  that  in  my  stupidity  I  have  added 
so  great  a  grief  to  your  load  of  anxiety,  dear  young 
lady,"  said  Westerlo,  rising.  "  Let  me  ask  forgiveness. 
Let  me  go,  at  least,  and  send  our  doctor  to  you.  Oh, 
grieve  not,  grieve  not,  pretty  one;  he  is  really  safer 
now  than  he  would  be  here.  There,  there,  I  will  go." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  sought  to  restrain  him. 

"  Oh,  no  !  It  is  not — it  is  not  what  you — "  But 
she  broke  off  short.  Was  not  any  supposition  of  his 
preferable  to  his  discovering  the  real  cause  of  her 
anxiety  and  distress  ?  "  You  must  not  send  the  doc 
tor,"  she  hurriedly  continued,  abruptly  changing  the 
subject.  "  I  am  grateful,  but — but  father  would  not 
see  him — at  least  not  yet.  Indeed  I  will  call  upon  you 
if  need  there  be." 

But  the  old  dragoon  rode  away,  shaking  his  head. 
"  I  have  made  a  mess  of  it.  I  might  have  known  she 
had  a  lover — and  he  was  just  from  here ;  yet,  a  poule 
mouillee,  like  that — a  fellow  with  no  fight  in  him  for 
all  the  bravery  of  his  attire.  Ah,  the  sergeant  was  a 
hero — he  got  through  !" 

True  to  his  word,  he  sent  his  surgeon  to  the  house 
at  dusk,  and  the  doctor  had  a  brief  talk  with  Miss 
Armistead.  She  had  begged  her  father  to  see  this 
gentleman,  but  to  no  purpose;  the  old  Virginian  was 


192  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

indomitable  in  his  pride  and  his  resolution.  So  long 
as  he  had  life  in  his  veins,  he  said,  he  would  refuse  all 
aid  from  "  Federal "  sources,  and  she  knew  well  that 
it  would  only  irritate  and  worry  him  to  plead  further. 
The  doctor  was  not  invited  to  the  sick-room,  and,  fal- 
teringly,  Lucy  told  him  why.  He  seemed  in  no  wise 
surprised  or  annoyed,  asked  several  questions,  and 
quietly  took  his  leave,  saying  that  he  would  send  some 
little  remedies  in  a  short  time.  If  Judge  Armistead 
had  dreamed  that  the  glass  of  sherry  she  so  smilingly 
gave  him  with  his  chicken  broth  that  night  had  come 
from  the  field  stores  of  the  Yankee  doctor  it  might 
have  choked  him,  but  he  swallowed  it  eagerly,  and 
was  allowed  another  thimbleful.  At  an  hour  before 
daybreak,  when  she  stole  into  the  room  to  see  how  he 
was  sleeping,  he  looked  up  with  sudden  question  about 
Henry,  and  soon  after  sunrise  he  began  to  dress  and 
to  call  feebly  for  Nelse.  Nothing  would  persuade  him 
to  remain  in  bed.  Something,  he  said,  kept  telling 
him  that  this  day  would  bring  Henry  home  to  him 
again,  and  he  must  be  in  readiness  to  welcome  his  boy 
and  his  friends.  He  smiled  grimly,  lifting  a  tremu 
lous  hand  and  warning  them  to  listen  in  silence  as  the 
trumpets  of  the  cavalry  were  heard  playing  some 
bright,  spirited  calls  while  the  guard  was  being  mount 
ed  under  the  dripping  trees.  "  They'll  be  playing  a 
different  tune  before  night,"  he  said.  "They  can't 
see  twelve  hours  ahead,  or  they'd  be  scampering 
now." 

And  though  the  roads  were  deep  in  mud  and  the 
clouds  hung  low,  the  wind  had  died  away,  and  towards 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  193 

noon  there  were  signs  of  breaking  of  the  storm.  The 
rain  ceased  to  patter  on  the  roof,  the  light  slowly  in 
creased,  and  then,  early  in  the  afternoon,  there  came 
visitors.  She  heard  clanking  sabres  and  clinking  spurs 
upon  the  piazza  without,  and  her  father  listened  with 
frowning  and  impatient  mien.  He  could  not  bear  it  that 
she  should  so  frequently  be  called  upon  to  receive  these 
haughty  and  triumphant  invaders.  Yet  he  longed  to 
question  her  as  to  Kearny.  Yank  or  no  Yank,  he  liked 
that  young  fellow,  and  though  he  would  not  approve, 
he  could  not  wonder  at  his  love  for  such  a  girl  as  his 
peerless  Lucy.  Not  once  had  that  name  passed  the  lips 
of  either  father  or  daughter  in  conversation  with  each 
other  since  the  sealing  of  the  packet  that  contained 
the  treasure  he  had  left  with  them.  Not  once,  how 
ever,  had  it  left  her  thoughts  since  the  moment  of  the 
dread  announcement  made  by  that  officer  under  her 
window.  She  longed — even  though  she  shrank  from 
asking — to  know  more  of  that  extraordinary  story. 
It  was  not  that  she  for  a  moment  believed  Kearny 
could  be  guilty;  she  simply  needed  to  hear  of  him. 
Twice  had  she  striven  to  muster  courage  and  ask 
Colonel  Westerlo  about  him,  but  the  words — the  name 
— would  not  come.  Now  it  was  with  fresh  excite 
ment  that  she  heard  from  Hannah's  lips  the  announce 
ment  that  the  colonel  was  at  the  door,  and  begged  to 
see  her  on  important  matters.  She  went  at  once,  and 
found  the  old  soldier,  with  the  surgeon  and  his  adju 
tant,  all  equipped  for  the  march,  their  horses  saddled 
at  the  gate. 

"  We  are  come  to  say  farewell,"  he  said,  with  sad- 
13 


194  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

ness  and  courtesy  mingled  in  his  voice.  "  Orders 
reached  me  an  hour  ago  to  leave  one  squadron  here 
at  Hopeville  and  march  at  once  to  Salem  with  the  rest. 
I  have  instructed  Captain  Wise,  who  remains  in  com 
mand,  to  visit  you  daily  and  inquire  if  in  any  way  he 
can  be  of  aid  to  you,  and  believe  me,  Miss  Armis- 
tead,  it  is  with  heavy  heart  I  go.  Will  not  your  good 
father  see  our  doctor  now,  since  it  is  our  last  oppor 
tunity  ?" 

But  Judge  Armistead  refused  flatly.  He  desired 
his  pleading  daughter  to  express  his  appreciation  of 
the  proffered  courtesy,  but  to  say  that  he  could 
not  be  under  obligations.  "  Lucy,"  he  whispered, 
tremulous  and  excited,  "  it  is  as  I  told  you.  It  must 
be  so.  Henry  and  our  boys  are  coming,  and  the  warn 
ing  has  reached  these  fellows.  They  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come." 

She  had  to  return  to  the  kindly  old  soldier,  and  tell 
him,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  pleading  was  useless. 
Her  father  would  not  see  the  doctor,  and  that  medical 
gentleman  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer ;  so  long  as 
the  judge  was  combative  and  obstinate  there  could  be 
no  immediate  danger.  They  would  be  sure  to  meet 
again,  said  the  colonel,  as  he  bent  over  her  hand  to 
say  adieu.  Never  would  he  visit  this  section  of  Vir 
ginia  without  coming  to  find  the  old  homestead,  and 
to  inquire  for  her  welfare. 

And  then  they  were  gone.  She  had  found  it  im 
possible  to  ask  one  word  about  Kearny,  and  she  could 
have  buried  her  head  in  the  pillows  and  wept  in  utter 
anxiety  and  desolation.  Her  father  here,  failing  day 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  195 

by  day,  bis  mind  clouded,  his  strength  gone,  his  sys 
tem  practically  starving  for  nutritious  food,  and  his 
palate  pining  for  the  delicacies  to  which  it  had  been 
accustomed;  Henry,  she  knew  not  where,  but  some 
thing  kept  haunting  her  hour  after  hour,  warning  her 
that  the  brother  she  loved  was  in  desperate  peril,  and 
plunging  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  toils.  And  then 
Frank  Kearny.  Could  she  ever  forget  him  as  he 
looked  that  night?  Could  she  ever  forget  how  he 
had  clasped  and  kissed  her  ?  The  change  in  him  ;  the 
worn,  haggard  look  about  the  eyes  and  mouth ;  the 
sternness  of  his  soldierly  face,  the  weariness  and  sor 
row  in  his  voice.  All  this  she  recalled — all  this — and 
the  fact  that  between  him  and  her  there  was  that  for 
bidding  shadow  that  bade  her  send  him  hopeless  from 
her  side.  Motherless,  friendless,  she  was  bearing  her 
weight  of  sorrow  and  care  practically  alone  and  com 
fortless. 

An  excited  controversy  in  the  kitchen  afforded  tem 
porary  relief — Aunt  Bell  and  Hannah  in  lively  but 
partially  suppressed  altercation.  The  former  was  urg 
ing  that  Miss  Lulie  be  instantly  summoned  to  see  and 
rejoice  in  something  which  had  been  deposited  by  a 
squad  of  soldiers  at  the  cellar  door,  whereat  Nelse 
could  be  heard  capering  in  delight.  But  Hannah  was 
positive  and  peremptory.  "  Don'  you  do  no  such  fool 
thing  !  You  hide  'em,  'n'  keep  'em,  'n'  just  dish  'em  up 
'thout  sayin'  one  word  'bout  it.  /knows."  And  Han 
nah's  wisdom  prevailed.  The  judge  was  regaled  for 
supper  that  evening  with  viands  for  which  he  had 
longed  in  secret,  and  for  which  he  thanked  his  silent 


196  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

daughter  with  loving  eyes  and  loving  kisses.  She 
would  ask  no  question;  she,  for  his  sake,  would  not 
reject  the  good  things  that  had  been  thrown  in  their 
way.  She  could  have  found  it  deep  down  in  her 
warm,  Southern  heart  to  have  thanked  and  blessed 
that  thoughtful  old  Dutch- Yankee  dragoon,  for  she 
well  knew  it  must  have  been  his  doing. 

Just  at  dusk  Captain  Wise  appeared  to  her  as  she 
was  flitting  through  the  hall.  He  was  a  man  she  had 
not  before  noticed  among  the  officers  passing  to  and 
fro.  He  was  not  the  like  of  Westerlo,  but  he  meant 
to  be  civil  and  courteous.  He  called,  he  said,  as  in 
structed  by  his  commander,  to  inquire  how  Judge 
Armistead  had  passed  the  day,  and  whether  there  was 
anything  he  could  be  of  service  in.  She  thanked  him. 
It  might  be  necessary  to  send  old  Nelse  over  to  Hope- 
ville  village  on  the  west  side  of  the  range  if  the  roads 
were  better  on  the  morrow.  Could  he  be  allowed  the 
use  of  a  spare  horse  or  mule?  The  captain  looked 
much  disconcerted.  His  orders  strictly  forbade  it. 
In  fact,  "  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  upon  it,"  said  this 
martial  Snagsby,  it  was  his  belief  that  Colonel  Wes 
terlo  had  been  sent  away  because  the  district  com 
mander  suspected  him  of  giving  too  much  aid  and 
comfort  to  the  enemy,  and  he,  Captain  Wise,  was 
warned  on  peril  of  his  commission  to  see  to  it  that  no 
one  passed  to  and  fro  along  the  Gap  without  the  or 
der  of  the  energetic  colonel  commanding  the  cavalry 
brigade  now  holding  the  neighborhood. 

"  It  was  his  own  adjutant  who  brought  over  the 
orders,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  he  told  me  the  reason 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  197 

they  had  to  be  so  strict  was  that  the  colonel  felt  sure 
there  were  Confederate  spies  lurking  around  us,  and 
he  was  fearful  that  while  Graham  was  away  a  brigade 
of  Stuart's  men  might  gallop  up  from  the  Rappahan- 
nock  by  way  of  Sulphur  Springs,  and  capture  him  and 
his  whole  crowd.  He  says  the  one  thing  the  colonel 
prays  for  is  to  capture  some  one  of  these  disguised 
soldiers,  and  then  he  can  make  an  example  of  him." 

"What  could  he  possibly  do — what  right  would  he 
have  ?"  she  asked,  with  wildly  beating  heart,  Henry — 
Henry  and  his  peril — occurring  to  her  at  the  instant. 

"  He  has  authority,  he  says,  to  summarily  hang  any 
Confederate  officer  or  man  who  may  be  found  dis 
guised  within  our  lines.  It  will  go  hard  with  any  man 
he  catches,  for  he  is  a  fanatical  old  fellow,  and  I  be 
lieve  he  would  do  just  what  he  says." 

And  this  was  the  comfort  that  came  to  Lucy  Armis- 
tead  when  that  long,  hard  day  was  brought  to  a  close. 


XIX. 

A  NIGHT  of  sleeplessness  and  weary  vigil  followed. 
Not  until  hours  after  dark  would  the  old  judge  con 
sent  to  be  led  away  and  put  to  bed.  Nelse,  the  sable 
groom  of  the  bed-chamber,  had  thrice  vainly  impor 
tuned  his  master  before  success  rewarded  his  efforts. 
Lucy  sat  by  her  father's  side  an  hour  and  read  to  him, 
hoping  to  soothe  him  to  sleep.  At  last  he  fell  into  a 
fitful  slumber,  moving  nervously  from  time  to  time, 
and  muttering  or  moaning  when  he  stirred.  Exhaust 
ed,  yet  unwilling  to  leave  his  bedside,  the  girl  bowed 
her  head  upon  the  coverlet,  and,  still  clasping  the 
worn,  withered  old  hand  in  both  of  hers,  so  white  and 
soft  and  smooth  by  contrast,  yet  so  thin  and  fragile 
now,  she  too  presently  dozed  away.  The  only  light 
in  the  sick-room  came  from  the  flickering  blaze  on  the 
hearth,  the  only  sound,  save  the  old  man's  fitful  breath 
ing,  or  an  occasional  sigh,  was  Nelse's  monotonous 
snore  from  his  mat  in  the  hallway,  where  the  faithful 
old  darkey  had  elected  to  spend  the  night.  Once  or 
twice,  when  she  found  it  time  to  give  him  medicine 
or  the  drink  that  the  doctor  had  left  for  his  use,  Lucy 
roused  herself,  and  once  she  called  Nelse  and  had  him 
replenish  the  fire.  As  the  night  wore  away  the  old 
man  grew  wakeful  again,  and  fanciful  in  his  talk  and 


BETWEEN    THE    LIXES.  199 

ideas.  Lucy  again  strove  by  reading  aloud  awhile  to 
distract  his  thoughts  from  that  one  strain — Henry's 
coming.  It  was  torture,  agony,  to  her  to  think  of  it 
now;  yet  it  was  the  burden  of  his  every  sentence — he 
would  talk  of  nothing  else.  Twice  he  started  up,  de 
claring  he  heard  horses'  feet  on  the  road  through  the 
Gap,  and  once  he  made  her  go  to  the  piazza  and  look 
and  listen.  Throwing  over  her  shoulders  a  heavy 
shawl,  she  obeyed  his  wish,  and,  softly  opening  the 
great  hall  door,  stepped  forth  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
The  clouds  had  gone  at  last,  the  stars  were  shining 
placidly  through  the  chill  and  silence  of  the  night. 
Far  over  to  the  east  there  were  dim  lights  along  the 
valley,  the  glow  of  distant  camp-fires.  Down  in  the 
fields  where  the  battalion  had  pitched  its  white  tents 
but  a  few  days  before,  all  was  now  emptiness  and 
gloom.  The  fires  had  burned  there  merrily  even 
through  the  three  days'  storm;  but  now  not  a  glimmer 
could  be  seen.  In  the  orchard  south  of  the  house  a 
bright  fire  blazed  in  front  of  the  white  tent  pitched 
there  for  the  use  of  the  guard,  and  she  could  see  one 
or  two  forms  wrapped  in  the  long  blue  cavalry  over 
coat  huddling  about  in  the  smoke  of  the  moist  and 
hissing  logs.  In  front  of  her,  not  ten  yards  away,  a 
sentry  paced  silently  to  and  fro;  and  others,  she  knew, 
guarded  the  flanks  and  rear  of  the  old  homestead. 
How  could  Henry  pass  such  warders  undetected,  even 
if  it  had  been  possible  for  him  to  make  his  way  through 
the  miles  and  miles  of  guarded  roads  that  lay  between 
the  Rappahannock  and  his  father's  bedside?  She 
shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the  peril.  Even  now, 


200  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

might  he  not  be  a  prisoner  caught  in  the  attempt  ? 
Might  he  not  even  be  cold  in  death,  murdered  in  de 
termined  effort  to  force  the  Yankee  lines  ? 

Over  the  horizon  a  pallid  light  told  of  the  near  ap 
proach  of  day.  She  had  hardly  slept  an  hour  during 
the  night,  and  was  cold,  weary,  hungry  too.  Possibly 
now  if  she  could  assure  her  father  that  dawn  had  come, 
the  Federal  cavalry  were  still  at  their  posts,  and  no 
sign  of  Henry  had  been  seen  or  heard,  he  might  again 
doze,  and  she,  too,  could  get  a  little  rest.  Just  as  she 
would  have  turned  away  to  re-enter  the  house  there 
fell  upon  her  ear  the  faint  click,  click  of  distant  iron- 
shod  hoofs  upon  a  rocky  road — a  horse  coming  through 
the  Gap  and  at  rapid  trot.  Probably  the  officer  of  the 
day  returning  from  an  inspection  of  his  picket,  she 
said  to  herself,  and  still  waited  to  hear  more.  Look 
ing  towards  the  fire,  she  saw  that  two  or  three  of  the 
men  in  blue  were  hurriedly  tumbling  up,  and,  carbine 
in  hand,  running  through  the  trees  to  the  stone  wall 
at  the  roadside,  where  they  were  lost  to  her  view. 
Presently  there  came  sharp  challenge  ringing  out  on 
the  chill  morning  air,  then  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs  as 
the  horse  was  suddenly  reined  in.  She  heard  prompt, 
cheery,  confident  answer,  in  a  tone  almost  laughing 
and  rollicking.  "  Don't  shoot,  boys,  I'm  all  right," 
or  something  to  that  effect.  She  heard  orders  to  dis 
mount,  and,  still  talking  loudly  and  cheerily,  the  stran 
ger  seemed  to  be  leading  his  horse  into  the  orchard, 
while  the  guard  clustered  around  him.  What  was 
there  in  that  voice  that  almost  stopped  the  throbbing 
of  her  heart  ?  Henry's — Henry's  beyond  all  possibil- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  201 

ity  of  doubt  —  Henry's  —  and  yet  laughing,  joking, 
chatting  loudly  with  a  squad  of  Federal  cavalry  ! 
Presently  she  could  see  them  at  the  fire — the  ser 
geant  and  one  of  the  men  closely  examining  a  folded 
paper,  while  others  held  the  stranger's  horse.  As  for 
the  stranger  himself,  he  bent  over  the  flames,  totally 
indifferent  to  their  scrutiny  of  his  papers,  and  seem 
ingly  intent  only  on  toasting  his  hands,  and  then  flap 
ping  them  across  his  broad  chest  as  though  striving  to 
quicken  the  circulation  in  a  frame  numbed  by  a  long 
night  ride.  He  was  garbed  in  a  long  blue  cavalry 
coat  like  those  worn  by  the  troopers,  and  wore  a  soft 
black  felt  hat  and  high  top-boots.  A  thick,  bushy 
beard  concealed  all  the  lower  face  ;  but  that  form, 
that  voice — Good  Heaven  !  was  he  mad  to  take  such 
desperate  risk  ?  It  was  her  brother  beyond  shadow  of 
doubt. 

Presently  she  saw  the  young  lieutenant  who  seemed 
to  be  in  command  of  the  guard  coming  from  his  tent, 
and  him  the  stranger  greeted  cordially.  "  Sorry  to 
disturb  you,  lieutenant,"  he  said,  "  but  these  men  don't 
know  me  yet  as  the  rest  of  the  cavalry  do,  and  I  had 
to  have  you  called  to  satisfy  them.  There  are  my 
papers,  sir,"  and  he  nodded  carelessly  towards  the  ser 
geant.  "  Oh,  here's  another  batch  that  will  help  out 
in  case  you  don't  remember  me.  I'm  Will  Tierney, 
the  scout.  Everybody  knows  me  hereabouts." 

Trembling  with  apprehension,  she  clung  to  the  bal 
ustrade  and  looked  with  staring  eyes.  She  saw  the 
lieutenant  studying  one  paper  after  another,  and  then, 
as  though  satisfied,  engaging  in  quiet  conversation 


202  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

with  the  new  arrival.  Then  the  weary  horse  was  led 
away  by  one  of  the  men,  and  she  could  see  that  the 
others  were  again  disposing  themselves  for  rest  around 
the  fire.  Henry,  her  brother,  was  coolly  shaking  out  a 
couple  of  blankets,  as  though  he  meant  to  lie  down  in 
the  midst  of  his  enemies. 

It  was  nearly  sunrise  when  she  stole  back  to  her 
father's  bedside  to  tell  him  the  startling  news,  and 
warn  him  of  the  imminent  danger  in  case  of  suspicion 
or  discovery.  It  seemed  to  rouse  his  weakened  facul 
ties  and  bring  back  new  lease  of  life. 

After  brief  statement  of  her  plan,  and  gaining  his 
approval,  she  roused  old  Nelse,  and  warning  him  that 
all  his  wits  would  now  be  needed,  told  him  of  "  young 
marsVs  "  presence  among  the  guards  in  the  orchard, 
and  bade  him  go  about  his  work  and  keep  his  eyes 
open  for  a  chance  to  aid  him.  Then  Hannah  and  Aunt 
Bell  were  called,  and  at  an  early  hour  these  excited  do 
mestics  were  down  in  the  cellar  levying  on  the  box  of 
provisions  sent  there  by  Colonel  Westerlo,  and  busy 
in  the  preparation  of  breakfast.  An  hour  later,  un 
hindered  by  the  sentries  and  escorted  to  the  house  by 
the  lieutenant  himself,  the  tall  young  "  scout "  saun 
tered  into  the  yard,  strode  up  the  steps,  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  politely  inquired  of  Hannah  whether  he 
could  see  the  judge  or  Miss  Lucy.  While  she  was 
gone  to  carry  his  message  he  stood  carelessly  at  the 
head  of  the  steps,  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  glib 
tongue  telling  the  lieutenant  how  many  years  he  had 
lived  in  Prince  William  County  before  the  war.  A 
moment  later  he  was  bidden  to  enter,  and  far  back  in 


'As  for  the  stranger  himself,  he  bent  over  the  flames,  totally  in 
different  to  their  scrutiny  of  his  papers,  and  seemingly  intent 
only  on  toasting  his  hands" 


BETWEEN  THE    LINES.  203 

the  dim  recesses  of  the  hall  threw  off  the  bushy  beard 
and  clasped  his  sister  in  his  arms. 

"  Father  !  How  is  he  ?"  were  the  first  words  he 
could  say. 

She  clung  to  him,  sobbing  in  speechless  thanksgiv 
ing  that,  if  only  for  the  time,  he  was  safe,  safe  in  her 
embrace.  She  gloried  in  the  address,  the  daring,  the 
devotion  that  had  enabled  him  to  thread  his  way 
through  miles  of  foemen  to  come  at  her  call,  and 
gladden  the  fading  eyes  of  the  father  who  so  loved 
him — who  had  so  suffered  for  his  sake.  Yet  she  was 
all  unnerved.  The  sorrows,  the  privations  of  the  long 
winter,  had  told  upon  her  more  than  she  dreamed  until 
now,  and,  weak  as  a  child,  she  lay  on  his  breast,  crying 
her  heart  out  in  mingled  joy,  relief,  and  apprehension. 
At  last  she  looked  up  in  his  eyes. 

"  He  is  very  feeble  ;  he  will  be  so  overjoyed  to  see 
you — but  oh,  Henry,  did  you  not  receive  my  warning? 
Do  you  not  know  your  very  life  is  perilled  by  this  dis 
guise  ?" 

"  It  was  too  late  to  warn  after  your  first  letter 
reached  me,  sister  mine.  I  hardly  dared  hope  to  find 
him  alive  after  these  interminable  delays.  I  started 
the  instant  leave  was  granted  me  and  before  the  move 
ment  of  the  Federals  was  known,  but  they  got  first  to 
Warrenton,  and  it  has  been  sharp  work  since.  Heav 
en  !  If  I  could  only  send  back  word  this  night !  If 
Stuart  only  knew  what  I  know — how  few — how  scat 
tered  they  are  !  We  might  rush  a  regiment  or  two  up 
here  and  ride  off  with  the  whole  gang.  Take  me  to 
father.  There  I  can  tell  you  the  rest." 


204  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

That  meeting  need  not  be  dwelt  upon.  For  an  hour 
the  old  man  lay  there  clinging  to  the  hand  of  his  stal 
wart  son,  while  Lucy  sat  by  her  brother's  side,  drink 
ing  in  his  every  word.  Both  father  and  daughter  were 
thrilled  at  the  story  of  his  perilous  journey.  It  would 
have  been  utterly  impossible  for  him  to  get  through 
so  long  as  he  wore  any  item  of  Confederate  dress  or 
equipment.  The  line  of  the  Rappahannock  was  closely 
guarded  all  the  way  to  the  forks  of  the  Hedgman  River. 
He  expected  to  find  no  Federal  troops  west  of  the 
Orange  and  Alexandria  Railway,  but  the  sudden  ex 
pedition  to  capture  Mosby  had  filled  the  country  with 
cavalry,  and  every  town  and  every  road  from  Sulphur 
Springs  northward  seemed  infested  with  them.  Near 
Amissville  chance  befriended  him.  He  found  there 
the  scout  Tierney,  who,  with  the  full  knowledge  of 
both  Stuart  and  Mosby,  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Fed 
eral  "Secret  Service."  It  was  his  business  to  spend 
most  of  his  time  with  the  lines  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  but  to  slip  out  and  give  prompt  information 
of  important  moves,  while  feeding  his  employers  with 
any  such  pap  in  the  way  of  reports  of  the  position  and 
numbers  (the  latter  purposely  exaggerated)  of  the  Con 
federates  as  he  thought  they  would  swallow.  It  was 
a  dangerous  game,  and  one  he  could  not  long  expect 
to  carry  out.  Both  sides  began  to  suspect  him,  he 
said,  and  he  had  had  trouble  within  the  Federal  lines, 
and  experienced  great  difficulty  in  getting  out  to  warn 
Mosby.  He  had  been  seized  by  the  Yankees  despite 
his  papers,  and  only  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth  had  he 
escaped  and  made  his  way  through  the  wood  roads  in 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  205 

the  nick  of  time.  ISTow,  of  course,  the  game  was  up, 
and  he  could  no  longer  return.  He  was  seeking  to 
get  farther  south,  and  appealed  to  Armistead  to  aid 
him,  confident  that  as  one  of  Stuart's  most  trusted  offi 
cers  he  would  be  able  to  satisfy  the  Confederate  offi 
cers  along  the  line  to  Gordonsville  that  he  was  not 
a  Yankee  spy,  but  a  loyal  Virginian.  Henry  saw  a 
chance  at  once ;  making  a  temporary  exchange  of 
"mounts,"  and  borrowing  Tierney's  hat,  overcoat, 
and  Federal  passes  and  papers,  and  gaining  from  him 
such  information  as  to  the  names  of  the  officers,  the 
regiments,  etc.,  he  would  be  apt  to  encounter  en  route 
as  he  needed,  the  young  Virginian  pushed  boldly  forth, 
rode  unhesitatingly  among  the  very  first  party  of  blue- 
coated  horsemen  he  sighted  across  the  stream ;  told  their 
commander  he  was  Tierney,  hurrying  through  with  im 
portant  information ;  showed  his  papers ;  scrawled  with 
a  rough  pencil  a  not  bad  imitation  of  the  scout's  signa 
ture  ;  gave  a  good  deal  of  information  about  the  con 
dition  of  things  south  of  the  river,  and  was  allowed 
to  ride  on,  mainly  by  night,  avoiding  pickets  and  pa 
trols  when  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  and  thus  escaping 
delay ;  but  being  bold,  communicative,  and  jovial  when 
ever  he  had  to  meet  them,  he  succeeded  at  last  in  mak 
ing  his  way  to  Hopeville  village,  and  then  pushed 
through  the  Gap.  Up  to  this  moment  he  had  not 
been  recognized  by  either  friend  or  foe  outside  the 
walls  of  his  father's  house.  But  it  had  taken  time  ; 
there  had  been  unavoidable  detentions  at  more  points 
than  one  ;  nothing  but  the  imminent  danger  in  which 
he  feared  his  father's  life  to  be  would  have  prompted 


206  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

the  risk.  Now  the  question  was  how  to  get  back,  for 
he  dare  not  stay. 

Several  times  during  the  day  he  felt  compelled  to 
go  out  and  chat  with  the  men  of  the  guard,  exam 
ine  his  horse,  and  talk  of  the  ride  before  him  as  soon 
as  he  was  well  rested.  By  four  in  the  afternoon  he 
had  decided  that  his  best  chance  for  success  lay  in  a 
bold  trot  down  the  pike  to  Warrenton.  If  Tierney's 
defection  had  been  discovered  and  reported  by  Col 
onel  Graham,  those  passes  would  soon  be  worse  than 
worthless.  He  must  utilize  them  while  they  were 
yet  good. 

But  they  had  done  their  work  already.  Just  as  he 
had  resumed  his  disguise,  and  was  about  to  say  fare 
well,  Lucy  was  startled  by  the  scurry  of  many  hoofs  ; 
the  shout  of  men  surrounding  the  house,  and  the  sud 
den  entrance  of  two  officers  in  the  Union  blue  followed 
by  several  men. 

"  That's  the  man  !"  exclaimed  the  foremost.  "  Seize 
him !"  and  almost  before  Henry  had  time  to  think, 
two  stout  dragoons  had  thrown  themselves  upon  him. 
The  role  he  was  playing  occurred  to  him  at  once,  how 
ever,  and  while  Lucy,  almost  fainting  from  terror  and 
distress,  sank  back  against  her  father's  door,  he  boldly 
faced  the  officers. 

"  What  on  earth  does  this  mean,  captain  ?  Surely 
I  saw  you  last  night  over  near  Salem.  I  showed  you 
my  papers — Tierney." 

"  Unluckily  for  you,  Tierney,  you  did,  as  I  happened 
to  remember  when  orders  came  this  morning  to  make 
every  effort  to  find  and  arrest  you." 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  207 

"  On  what  charge,  pray  ?" 

"  On  the  double  charge  of  having  murdered  Captain 
Mullane  at  Washington  on  the  10th  of  March,  and 
of  deserting  to  Mosby's  guerillas  that  same  night." 


XX. 

RETUKNING  to  Washington  as  soon  as  he  could  ob 
tain  a  fresh  "mount"  for  himself,  and  leaving  his 
escort  to  follow  by  easy  marches,  Captain  Dayton 
reached  the  capital  late  on  the  evening  after  his  meet 
ing  with  Westerlo.  As  they  sat  by  the  camp-fire,  shel 
tered  by  a  tent  fly,  the  two  officers  had  talked  for  half 
an  hour  or  so  before  the  younger  bade  his  host  good 
night,  and  rolled  himself  in  his  blankets  for  such  rest 
as  was  possible  to  a  man  whose  heart  was  filled  with 
anxiety.  Already,  he  found,  the  very  troopers  of  his 
little  escort  were  talking  of  the  murder  of  Mullane, 
and  of  the  strong  circumstantial  evidence  against 
Kearny.  The  story  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth  in  the 
camp  of  Westerlo's  detachment,  and  one  or  two  offi 
cers  came  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  truth  of  the 
rumor.  Dayton  could  only  say  that  Mullane  was  cer 
tainly  dead,  and  that  Kearny  was  a  passenger  on  the 
boat  about  the  time  the  tragedy  occurred,  and  there 
had  been  previously  a  quarrel  between  them.  Know 
ing  the  major,  however,  from  early  boyhood,  he  felt 
confident  that  he  was  not  the  murderer.  But  the  offi 
cers  knew  that  the  object  of  his  ride  to  the  neighbor 
hood  was  to  search  for  Major  Kearny,  who  had  cer 
tainly  accompanied  the  column.  What  possible  ex- 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  209 

cuse  could  Kearny  have  had  for  joining  a  command 
and  an  expedition  where  he  had  no  official  position  ? 
Did  not  that  look  queer  ?  This  question  made  Dayton 
hot,  and  his  answer  was,  therefore,  decidedly  cutting. 
Major  Kearny,  he  said,  knew  more  about  this  section 
of  the  country  than  any  of  the  officers  going  out  with 
the  column.  He  had  a  week's  "  delay,"  doubtless  had 
heard  of  the  start  of  the  command,  and  instantly  re 
solved  to  follow  and  overtake  it,  and  tender  his  ser 
vices  as  a  volunteer.  Such  conduct  might  seem  in 
comprehensible  to  the  questioner,  but  was  most  char 
acteristic  in  Major  Kearny,  and  had  been  very  hand 
somely  recognized  by  Colonel  Graham  in  his  report. 

All  the  same,  Dayton  was  feverishly  eager  to  get 
back  to  Washington  and  join  his  friend.  He  more 
than  suspected  that  it  was  a  longing  to  see  the  fair 
girl  at  the  Armistead  place  that  prompted  Kearny  to 
seize  the  opportunity  to  come  with  Graham's  com 
mand,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  had  returned  to 
Washington  as  soon  as  the  brief  interview  was  com 
pleted.  Something  had  told  him  that  there  was  a  love 
affair  back  of  all  this  gloomy  and  restless  demeanor 
of  Kearny's.  He  knew  there  must  be  from,  the  fury 
with  which  he  had  resented  Mullane's  accusation;  and 
now  he  was  confident  that,  thus  far  at  least,  Kearny 
had  not  prospered  in  his  suit.  He  had  only  dimly 
seen  the  sweet  face  in  the  dark  hallway,  and  he  ven 
tured  to  ask  Colonel  Westerlo  if  he  had  met  the  young 
lady. 

"Ah,  I  have — two  or  three  times,"  was  the  reply. 
"  And  I  grieve  for  her.  Her  father  is  going  fast,  I 
14 


210  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

fear;  her  brother  is  an  officer  of  Stuart's  cavalry;  her 
lover — a  handsome  fellow — was  captured  by  our  ad 
vance  the  night  we  got  to  Thoro'fare;  and  she  is  ut 
terly  alone  in  the  world.  And,  you  mark  me,  captain, 
she  is  a  thorough-bred;  she  is  a  lady.  Ah,  my  heart 
aches  for  her." 

"Who  is  the  lover?    Did  you  see  him  ?" 

"See  him?  Yes.  Worse  luck,  I  < gobbled'  him; 
and,  worst  luck  of  all,  I  told  her!  It  almost  turned 
her  into  stone.  I  thought  I  had  killed  her.  She  reeled 
and  nearly  fainted,  and  was  deathly  white.  Oh,  but 
she  is  game,  that  little  one;  she  is  brave  !" 

"  And  who  is  the  man  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Falconer.  He  is  from  Warrenton, 
and  is  a  captain  of  cavalry.  He  had  been  visiting  her 
when  he  got  the  news  of  our  coming,  and  he  ran  into 
our  advance  while  trying  to  make  his  way  to  his  peo 
ple  in  the  Gap." 

Late  the  next  night  Dayton  reached  Willard's,  after 
a  journey  that  had  been  an  all-day  affair.  He  had  left 
Westerlo  at  the  peep  of  dawn,  and  was  tired  out  and 
splashed  with  mud  when  he  strode  into  the  office  of 
the  familiar  old  hostelry.  Dozens  of  men  in  uniform, 
of  all  grades  from  major-general  down  to  second  lieu 
tenant,  were  grouped  about  the  marble  pavement,  and 
many  ceased  their  talk  and  looked  curiously  at  him  as 
he  entered. 

"Has  Major  Kearny  returned?"  he  asked,  with  eager 
ness  he  could  not  conceal. 

The  clerk  glanced  up  quickly. 

•'  Captain  Dayton  ?"  he  asked.     "  Yes,  and  wants  to 


BETWEEN   THE   LIXES.  211 

see  you  at  once  on  your  arrival.  There  are  one  or 
two  gentlemen  with  him  now.  Will  you  go  right 
up?" 

And  Dayton,  too  anxious  and  impatient  to  feel  the 
weight  of  his  weariness,  was  ushered  at  once  to  his 
comrade's  room.  Two  officers  were  sitting  with  him, 
and  a  portly  man  in  civilian  dress  lounged  in  a  big 
arm-chair.  All  arose  as  the  travel-stained  soldier  en 
tered,  and  Kearny  sprang  eagerly  forward  and  grasped 
him  by  the  hand. 

"Dear  old  fellow  !  what  a  time  you  must  have  had 
— and  all  on  my  account !  Where  have  you  been  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  that  presently.  Tell  me  first  that  you 
have  cleared  these  muddy  heads  hereabouts,  and  put 
an  end  to  their  suspicions." 

"  How  is  it,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Kearny,  with  a  grave, 
sad  smile,  turning  to  his  visitors.  "  Let  me  present 
my  old  chum,  Captain  Dayton.  Major  Ross;  Captain 
Foster  of  the  staff.  The  senator  of  course  you  know. 
From  all  accounts,  mon  ami,  you  needed  no  evidence 
to  clear  me  in  your  loyal  heart,  but  an  alibi  is  the 
least  point  on  which  the  defence  rests  the  case.  I 
wasn't  there." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Kearny;  and  where  did  you 
leave  the  boat  ?" 

"  At  Alexandria.  I  was  up  and  dressed  when  we 
reached  there,  and  on  the  dock  whom  should  I  meet 
but  Stockton,  of  the  regular  cavalry.  He  told  me  that 
he  was  going  out  to  join  Graham's  command  under 
orders  from  the  War  Department.  He  knew  the  ob 
ject  of  the  move,  but  neither  of  us  supposed  that  Gra- 


212  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

ham  would  start  that  night.  I  was  delayed  in  getting 
a  suitable  horse,  and  it  was  late  that  day  before  we 
reached  the  camp  of  Stockton's  troop.  We  were  to 
gether  all  day  long,  so  that  ended  the  case  against 
me.  Next  morning  I  galloped  forward  and  caught 
Graham  at  Centreville.  Of  course  I  was  amazed  at 
the  charge  against  me,  but  it  was  all  set  at  rest  by 
Stockton.  Now  the  question  is — who  did  it  ?  Have 
you  any  theory?" 

Dayton  hesitated  a  moment,  then  slowly  answered  : 

"  I  have  some  vague  suspicion  of  a  man  whom  we 
saw  on  the  boat  the  night  you  started  for  Washing 
ton,  but  who  disappeared  immediately  after  the  mur 
der.  I  gave  his  name  and  description  to  the  police, 
but  as  yet  have  seen  none  of  them  since  my  return. 
It  was  that  tall,  lanky  fellow,  Kearny — the  man  with 
the  big,  bushy  beard,  whom  you  noticed  and  spoke  of 
having  seen  elsewhere  in  different  dress.  You  re 
member  they  told  us  on  the  boat  he  was  a  quarter 
master's  clerk — name  of  Freeman — and  that  Mullane 
had  won  a  lot  of  money  from  him." 

Kearny's  eyes  gleamed  with  eager  interest.  "  I  do 
indeed !"  he  said.  "  Go  on  !" 

"  Well,  I  cannot,  further  than  to  say  that  he  did  not 
come  back  to  Acquia  with  the  boat,  and  that  he  has 
not  been  seen  aboard  it  since;  or  had  not  up  to  the 
day  I  started  in  pursuit  of  you." 

"  I  have  already  explained  to  these  gentlemen,  Day 
ton,  that  while  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  be  of 
service  to  Graham  and  his  command,  I  had  hoped  to 
find  it  possible  to  make  rny  way  out  to  Hopeville  Gap 


BETWEEN    THE   LINES.  213 

to  personally  visit  the  family  that  saved  me  from  death 
or  imprisonment,  or  both,  after  the  Gainesville  fight. 
But  for  this  dash  after  Mosby  I  might  have  been  un 
able  to  get  out  there  at  all ;  yet  that  was  the  object  of 
my  requesting  this  week's  delay." 

The  captain  of  the  staff,  who  had  been  seated  qui 
etly  at  the  farther  end  of  the  sofa,  now  rose  and  came 
forward. 

"  I  am  going  up  to  the  Department,  Major  Kearny, 
and  have  only  waited  in  hopes  of  seeing  Captain  Day 
ton  on  his  return.  It  was  a  matter  I  did  not  intend 
to  mention  until  later,  but  I  want  to  congratulate  the 
captain  on  being  the  first  man  to  hit  on  the  true  solu 
tion  of  this  case." 

"  You  mean  I  am  right — that  it  was  Freeman  who 
did  it  ?"  asked  Dayton,  eagerly. 

"  You  are  right,  although  it  wasn't  Freeman.  To 
day's  discoveries  at  the  Secret  Service  office  establish 
the  fact  that  Freeman,  so  called,  wrote  a  letter  to  Mul- 
lane  telling  him  he  had  evidence  to  prove  that  Mullane 
had  cheated  him  at  cards,  and  won  all  his  money  from 
him  by  a  scoundrelly  trick;  so  he  bade  him  be  at  the 
landing,  and  come  to  his  room  on  the  boat  prepared  to 
restore  every  cent,  or  he  would  have  him  arrested  and 
cashiered  in  disgrace.  The  letter,  signed  by  a  very 
different  name,  but  one  we  know  equally  well,  was  not 
obtained  by  the  police  until  this  morning,  as  it  lay  in 
the  hack  where  Mullane  had  dropped  it.  The  hack- 
man  was  frightened  at  the  murder,  and  had  kept  in 
the  dark  until  ferreted  out,  and  then  gave  evidence 
that  he  had  been  employed  by  some  '  out-of-town 


214  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

sports'  to  drive  them  with  Mullane  from  a  certain 
low  saloon  to  the  boat;  thence  he  took  them  to  the 
Baltimore  depot,  and  could  hear  them  quarrelling 
among  themselves  over  the  money  out  of  which  they 
had  fleeced  the  captain  during  the  night.  They  had 
won  almost  every  cent  he  had,  and  he  was  drunk, 
ugly,  truculent,  and  butt-headed  at  the  time  he  went 
aboard.  There  was  evidently  a  quarrel,  a  grapple,  and 
then  the  death-shot.  Whether  intentional  or  not,  it 
was  fired  by  a  man  then  employed  as  a  scout  and  agent 
of  the  Secret  Service  Bureau,  who  immediately  there 
after  crossed  into  Virginia,  got  his  horse  and  field 
equipments,  joined  that  night  the  column  under  Col 
onel  Graham,  and  made  his  escape  in  time  to  warn 
Mosby  of  their  coming." 

"  By  Heaven !"  exclaimed  Kearny,  "  it  was  that 
scoundrel  Tierney.  The  same  who  betrayed  me  last 
year." 

"  The  very  man,"  calmly  answered  Captain  Foster. 
"And  there  is  no  question  that  he  has  been  a  two- 
faced  villain  all  through,  and  serving  the  rebellion 
while  drawing  pay  from  us.  You  never  saw  any  one 
so  taken  aback  as  the  chief.  He  has  stood  up  for  that 
fellow  through  thick  and  thin,  and  now  he  looks  as 
though  he  wanted  to  go  and  hang  himself." 

"Better  hang  Tierney,  if  they  can  lay  hands  on 
him,"  suggested  the  senator. 

"  Oh,  never  fear  as  to  that !  provided  they  catch 
him;  but  he'll  never  be  fool  enough  to  get  within  our 
lines  again.  If  he  should,  and  any  of  Graham's  brig 
ade  lay  hands  on  him,  up  he'll  go  to  the  first  tree." 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  215 

"No  wonder  he  slunk  away  and  kept  out  of  sight 
the  evening  we  boarded  the  boat  at  Acquia  !"  said 
Kearny.  "  I  always  knew  that  it  was  his  doing  that 
the  blackguardly  story  about  my  stay  at  Hopeville  was 
first  whispered  abroad.  "We  could  not  recognize  him 
in  his  disguise,  but  he  knew  me.  What  orders  have 
been  given  in  the  case,  captain  ?" 

"  They  go  out  to-night,  warning  all  commanders  of 
columns  or  detachments  in  Virginia  to  be  on  the  look 
out  for  the  ex-scout  Tierney;  giving  a  description  of 
the  man,  and  copies  of  all  his  orders  and  papers.  No 
instructions  that  I  heard  of  at  the  office  were  given  as 
to  the  disposition  to  be  made  of  him.  I  fancy  that  is 
left  to  the  imagination.  And  now,  major,  I  know  you 
and  Captain  Dayton  have  much  to  talk  of — I  will  re* 
port  your  return  to  the  adjutant -general,  captain  — 
and  I'll  say  good-night.  You  leave  for  Trenton  in  the 
morning  ?" 

"  I  hope  to,"  answered  Kearny,  with  the  same  grave, 
quiet  smile.  "I  trust  no  new  accusation  or  suspicion 
may  attach  to  me  by  that  time,  or  the  governor  may 
decide  it  best  to  declare  a  vacancy,  and  make  another 
major." 

Then  the  senator  and  Major  Ross  decided  it  time 
for  them  to  go  and  leave  the  friends  together ;  and  no 
sooner  were  they  alone  than  Dayton  threw  himself 
wearily  back  in  the  big  arm-chair.  Kearny  stood  over 
him,  placed  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  looked  down 
in  his  face. 

"  Did  you  see — her  ?" 

"  For  a  moment  only,  yes." 


216  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  AVas  all  well  with  them  ?" 

"I  fear  not,  Frank.  I  met  old  Colonel  "Westerlo 
there,  commanding  a  detachment  of  the  Penn 
sylvania  Cavalry,  a  fine  old  soldier,  and  he  is  deeply 
interested  in  their  welfare  ;  but  he  tells  me  the  judge 
is  proud  as  Lucifer  and  stubborn  as  a  mule.  He  won't 
accept  anything  in  the  way  of  attention — won't  see 
anybody;  refuses  even  a  visit  from  the  doctor;  and 
he  had  heard  from  the  negroes  that  the  old  gentleman 
was  very  ill  and  weak,  and  Miss  Lucy  nearly  starving ; 
they  had  been  daily  expecting  a  visit  from  the  family 
physician,  and  needing  him,  but  the  very  day  I  got 
there  AVesterlo  heard  that  that  red-hot  old  martinet 
Van  Duzen  had  ordered  Dr.  Loring's  arrest,  and  had 
sent  him  under  guard  to  Chantilly." 

"  On  what  possible  charge,  pray?  If  anything,  Dr. 
Loring  is  a  Union  man  in  his  innermost  heart.  What 
will  old  Van  do  next?  lie  is  too  flighty  and  rabid  an 
old  dragoon  to  leave  in  an  independent  command  there. 
He'll  be  for  hanging  somebody  yet." 

"  Kearny,  from  what  Westerlo  tells  me,  I  am  seri 
ously  worried  about  your  friends  there.  Can  you  not 
write  a  letter  to  Van  Duzen  and  commend  them  to  his 
care  and  courtesy,  because  of  their  long  kindness  to 
you  when  you  were  under  their  roof  ?" 

"  I'll  do  it  this  night,  of  course ;  but  as  we  are 
strangers  to  each  other  I  must  get  the  senator  and 
some  other  dignitary  to  endorse  it.  Then  it  must  go 
safely  to  Van  Duzen ;  such  a  thing  would  only  hurt 
them  if  it  should  fall  into  Southern  hands.  I  hope 
my  visit  resulted  in  the  relief  of  their  pressing  needs. 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  217 

It  did  not  help  me,  God  knows.  Yes,  I  know  your 
natural  supposition,  and — it  is  true.  I  am  hard  hit — 
hard  hit.  All  to  no  purpose,  too  ;  she  told  me  frankly 
there  was  another." 

"Yes,  I  heard  of  it;  Westerlo  told  me.  I  know  it 
has  been  the  cause  of  all  your  misery  this  winter." 

"  What  did  Westerlo  tell  you?" 

"He  was  well-nigh  used  up,"  answered  Dayton. 
"  Utterly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  it  was  her  lover 
he  was  speaking  of,  he  told  her  of  his  capture,  and  she 
nearly  fainted  away.  lie  said — " 

"  Whose  capture — when  ?" 

"  That  very  night,  by  Westerlo's  advance-guard — 
Captain  Falconer.  Wasn't  that  the  man  she  told  you 
of?" 

"  Falconer  ! — captured  again?  Yes,  that's  the  man." 


XXI. 

NIGHT,  dark  and  cheerless,  had  fallen  on  the  old 
homestead  at  Hopeville.  Except  in  the  room  of  the 
aged  invalid,  not  a  gleam  of  light  shone  from  within 
its  walls.  Around  the  house  the  sentries  paced  as 
usual,  and  with  an  air  of  increased  alertness  and  im 
portance.  The  capture  made  just  before  dusk  was 
one  that  rewarded  hours  of  hitherto  seemingly  sense 
less  vigil.  There  was  something,  after  all,  about  this 
mysterious  household,  whose  members  they  saw  only  at 
ten  yards'  distance,  and  whom  they  were  enjoined  to 
treat  with  scrupulous  respect,  but  on  no  account  to 
pass  in  or  out.  Either  they  were  spies  themselves  or 
harborers  of  deserters  and  spies,  so  ran  the  camp-fire 
stories,  but  this  evening's  business  had  probably  ended 
their  career  of  plotting.  A  strong  guard  had  ridden 
away  into  the  dark  gorge  through  the  range,  bearing 
with  them,  strapped  and  bound  to  his  horse,  the  two- 
faced  spy,  murderer,  and  deserter  to  the  enemy — the 
scout  Tierney,  who  had  trotted  so  confidently  down 
the  pass  that  very  morning,  and  spent  the  day  in  pri 
vate  interview  with  the  invisible  owner  of  the  place. 
Things  looked  black  for  that  young  Virginian,  said 
the  officers  in  their  talk  with  one  another.  The  cap 
tors  brought  the  news  that  "  old  Yan  Duzen  "  had 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  219 

received  from  Washington  the  day  previous  a  full  ac 
count  of  the  crimes  with  which  the  man  was  charged, 
a  description  of  him,  and  copies  of  his  passes  and  pa 
pers,  and  the  orders  were  to  find  him  if  a  possible 
thing.  It  was  speedily  transmitted  to  the  outposts, 
and  that  very  night  "  Tierney "  himself  had  been 
heard  of  at  one  of  them.  An  officer  galloped  in  to  Van 
Duzen's  headquarters  with  this  important  news,  and 
in  less  than  an  hour  several  strong  detachments  were 
roused  from  their  night's  rest,  and  sent  forth  at  early 
dawn  to  scour  the  country  in  pursuit.  One  of  these  had 
easily  traced  the  man  to  Hopeville  village,  and  thence 
through  the  Gap.  Now  they  were  riding  back  in  tri 
umph,  and  with  the  rising  of  the  morrow's  sun  "  old 
Van  "  would  be  in  possession  of  his  coveted  prisoner. 
It  was  a  bet  of  five  to  one  that  he  would  hang  him 
inside  of  twenty -four  hours.  If  Graham  got  back 
from  the  Shenandoah  in  time  to  interpose,  the  man 
would  doubtless  have  the  benefit  of  a  trial,  but  other 
wise  the  "  short  shrift  and  sudden  cord  "  was  the  least 
he  could  expect. 

And  yet  how  cool  and  calm  he  was  !  Captain  Wise, 
who  was  present  at  the  capture,  seemed  greatly  trou 
bled  for  the  young  lady,  who  had  been  shocked  be 
yond  description  by  the  abrupt  announcement  of  the 
charges  against  Tierney,  and  the  somewhat  violent 
means  of  his  arrest.  No  one  supposed  that  he  was  a 
person  of  any  social  position  or  consideration  until 
that  moment,  but  it  became  instantly  apparent  that 
he  must  have  been  of  great  consequence  in  the  eyes  of 
Miss  Armistead,  and  that  established  beyond  question 


220  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

the  belief  that  he  must  come  from  the  same  grade — 
one  of  the  old  families  of  the  grand  old  common 
wealth.  She  had  for  an  instant  seemed  stricken  dumb 
with  horror ;  had  almost  fainted;  then  had  rushed  for 
ward  and  seized  his  arm. 

"Gentlemen,"  she  cried,  "it  is  some  fearful  mis 
take  ;  it  cannot  be  true!" 

But  it  was  Tierney  himself,  said  Wise,  who  sud 
denly  and  proudly  checked  her. 

"  Miss  Armistead!"  he  loudly  and  firmly  spoke,  "not 
one  word — unless  you  would  make  it  worse  for  me. 
You  know  I  am  not  guilty  of  such  crime,  and  I  can 
satisfy  all  accusers  at  the  proper  time."  And  with 
anguish  in  her  eyes  she  had  fallen  back  to  a  seat,  and 
bowed  her  head  in  her  hands,  but  said  no  more.  Who 
could  the  man  be?  His  whole  manner  and  intona 
tion  seemed  to  change  when  he  spoke  to  her,  and  was 
obeyed  as  one  in  her  own  station  who  had  the  right  to 
advise  or  command.  This  was  a  matter  over  which 
Wise  pondered  long  and  deeply  that  night  when  he 
was  again  left  alone  with  his  little  command;  but  he 
pondered  to  no  purpose.  The  problem  was  too  much 
for  him. 

Could  he  have  but  seen  the  sight  in  the  poor  old 
father's  room  that  bitter  evening,  no  doubt  would 
have  remained.  Judge  Armistead,  lying  on  the  old 
sofa  in  his  study,  had  heard  every  word.  His  rallied 
faculties  had  quickly  grasped  the  whole  horror  of  the 
situation,  and  the  imminent  peril  of  his  beloved  son 
flashed  upon  him  in  an  instant.  It  was  better — better 
for  the  time  being,  at  least — that  he  should  appear  as 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  221 

the  murderer,  the  deserter,  the  double-dealing  scoun 
drel  Tierney,  than  be  known  in  his  true  character — an 
officer  and  a  gentleman  of  the  Confederate  service 
caught  disguised  and  with  false  papers  within  the 
Union  lines. 

In  the  first  predicament,  as  Tierney,  he  could  stout 
ly  deny  the  murder,  the  desertion,  and  demand  trial. 
They  would  not  be  apt  to  hang  a  man  without  proofs 
of  his  crime,  and  he  would  probably  be  taken  to 
Washington ;  possibly  not  until  then  would  his  iden 
tity  be  discovered.  On  the  other  hand,  if  discovered 
here  and  now — if  recognized  and  pointed  out  as  Henry 
Armistead  while  yet  he  stood  within  the  control  of 
Colonel  Van  Duzen — his  doom  was  sealed.  No  proofs 
could  then  be  lacking  or  demanded.  And  had  not  the 
whole  country-side  been  warned  that  if  any  were  capt 
ured  in  disguise  and  found  to  be  Confederate  officers, 
their  lives  would  be  the  forfeit  ?  When  he  heard  the 
escort  ride  away,  and  listened  to  the  stern,  brief  or 
ders  given  to  shoot  the  prisoner  dead  should  he  at 
tempt  to  escape,  the  father's  heart  sank  within  him. 
He  cried  aloud  in  anguish  that  his  son  could  be  thus 
torn  from  his  side  and  he  be  forced  to  stifle  every 
word  of  sympathy  or  love  at  parting,  lest  in  so  speak 
ing  he  betray  him  to  a  fate  worse  even  than  the  plight 
in  which  his  recklessness  and  devotion  had  plunged 
him.  The  old  gray  head,  bowed  with  grief  and  ills 
and  bitter  sorrow,  was  hidden  in  his  arms  when  poor 
Lucy  staggered  to  the  bedside  and  threw  herself,  de 
spairing,  on  her  knees.  Ah,  God!  There  were  sore 
hearts  and  desolate  homes  far  in  the  wintry  North, 


222  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

far  in  the  balmier  fields  where  the  Gulf  winds  blew, 
but  we  never  knew  such  suffering  and  such  sorrows 
as  did  they  who  dwelt  "between  the  lines." 

It  was  in  the  hour  of  their  direst  need,  after  a  night 
of  sleepless  misery,  that  there  came  to  them  late  on 
the  following  day  the  gray-haired  veteran  Westerlo. 
He  had  obtained  leave  to  ride  over  and  see  them,  he 
said;  and  Lucy,  weeping  and  exhausted,  could  almost 
have  fallen  into  his  arms  and  sobbed  in  mingled  relief 
and  anguish  on  his  fatherly  breast.  In  few  words  he 
told  them  what  he  knew  and  what  he  feared.  She 
had  led  him  to  the  bedside  of  the  sore-stricken  man, 
and  before  he  spoke  at  all  Westerlo's  suspicions  were 
confirmed.  He  was  at  headquarters  when  Van  Duzen 
received  his  prisoner  that  morning.  The  manner,  the 
bearing,  the  eyes  of  the  tall  and  soldierly  fellow  who 
stood  calmly  erect  before  his  questioners  were  not 
those  of  a  traitorous  wretch  such  as  Tierney  was 
known  or  believed  to  be.  As  Westerlo  stood  there 
and  studied  him,  and  then  listened  to  the  story  of  his 
arrival  at  the  homestead  and  the  incidents  of  his  capt 
ure,  he  became  possessed  with  a  violent  longing  to  go 
without  delay  to  the  stricken  ones  at  Hopeville.  Op 
portunity  presently  came ;  some  little  strings  of  evi 
dence  as  to  the  alleged  Tierney 's  wanderings  were 
needed.  "Westerlo  tendered  his  services  to  his  supe 
rior  officer,  and  by  noon  was  galloping  furiously  away. 

"  I  come  to  speak  to  you  of  this  scout,"  he  said  to 
these  prostrate  foes  after  a  few  inquiries  of  the  judge 
as  to  his  health.  "  I  ask  you  nothing.  I  seek  not  to 
pry  into  any  secret.  It  might  not  do  for  me  to  know, 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  223 

but  he  stands  accused  of  crimes  that,  if  proved,  would 
hang  him,  and  he  says  they  cannot  be  proved,  and  he 
demands  that  they  take  him  to  Washington  and  let 
him  there  establish  his  innocence.  My  superior  is  a 
most  ardent  hater  of  this  unholy  rebellion;  he  is  very 
bitter.  It  becomes  me  not  to  speak  of  my  command 
er,  and  I  must  not  criticise.  Nor  could  I  urge  him  to 
send  his  prisoner  to  the  capital  to  be  tried  by  the  slow 
process  of  court-martial.  It  is  an  example  here  he 
needs,  and  there  was  only  one  way  I  could  stay  him. 
Two  different  stories  had  been  told  of  what  he  said — 
of  the  accounts  he  gave  of  himself — to  the  guard  here 
and  to  the  picket  at  Hopeville  village.  I  am  sent  to 
get  the  truth,  and  I  come  at  speed,  but  not  so  do  I  re 
turn.  My  commander  will  not  act  until  I  get  back, 
and  I  will  pray  that  Colonel  Graham  is  already  en 
route  and  will  be  there  before  me.  Then  he  will  not 
hang ;  he  will  be  taken  to  Washington  ;  it  is  possible 
I  go  with  the  escort,  for  Colonel  Graham  is  my  kind 
friend.  I  ask  it  that  I  may  have  a  day  or  two  and 
run  up  to  my  home  and  see  my  own  little  girl.  Now, 
dear  young  lady,  dear  sir,  I  hear  of  late  a  strange 
story.  They  tell  to  me  that  this  our  brave  Major 
Kearny  was  brought  to  your  house,  was  nursed,  tend 
ed,  concealed  from  the  troops  of  your  own  friends, 
restored  to  health,  to  his  home,  his  country,  his  com 
rades,  through  your  merciful  kindness.  My  com 
mander,  Van  Duzen  —  he  did  not  know  this  until 
yesterday,  and  then  it  comes  to  him  straight  from 
Washington — no  !  not  from  Major  Kearny — from  the 
War-office — and  he  is  distressed  to  think  he  had  so 


224  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

harshly  included  you  in  his  orders.  lie  gives  me  per 
mission  to  see  you,  to  see  how  we  can  serve  you,  and 
for  this  I  rejoice.  But  he  can  do  little.  Now  I  sup 
pose  a  case:  you  have  a  son,  a  brother,  a  noble  fellow, 
if  he  is  my  enemy,  whom  in  open  fight  I  could  not 
shield;  but  war  has  its  strange  fortunes.  Suppose  he 
should  be  captured;  suppose  he  be  in  our  hands — in 
danger.  Would  not  a  great  nation,  a  great  people 
like  ours,  rise  and  say,  'It  was  he  who  shielded  our 
soldier ;  it  was  his  people  who  brought  him  back  from 
the  shadow  of  death.  Now  we  ask  mercy  for  him? 
Dear  young  lady,  if  that  should  happen,  if  it  should 
be  that  your  brother  stood  in  danger  of  his  life,  is 
there  not  some  paper,  some  letter,  you  could  trust  to 
me  that  I  may  show  the  powers  at  Washington  and 
restore  him  to  you  ?" 

The  old  gentleman  lay  on  his  pillow  with  averted 
face,  listening  in  speechless  thanksgiving  to  this  wily 
and  diplomatic  dragoon.  Lucy,  weeping  and  beam 
ing  by  turns,  blessing  in  her  heart  of  hearts  the  gen 
erous  and  thoughtful  soldier  who. had  come  to  them 
in  their  depth  of  woe,  bringing  hope  and  cheer  and 
consolation — Lucy,  who  had  once  believed  no  man  in 
the  Federal  blue  could  ever  win  a  kindly  thought  from 
her,  now  seized  the  colonel's  rugged  hand  and  clasped 
it  in  both  her  own.  For  a  few  moments  she  sat  trem 
bling  and  expectant,  waiting  for  her  father  to  speak, but 
at  last  she  bent  over  the  silent  form  and  saw  the  rea 
son  ;  he  too  was  weeping,  yet  striving  to  hide  his  tears. 

Impulsively  she  turned,  and  with  brimming  eyes 
looked  into  Westerlo's  face. 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  225 

"We  have  such  a  letter,  sucli  papers.  We  have 
here  the  very  pages  my  brother  Henry  wrote  to  us 
the  night  he  captured  Mr.  Kearny.  Without  them 
we  could  not  have  concealed  him  here.  With  them, 
we  could  not  say  no  ;  and  yet — and  yet — oh,  Colonel 
Westerlo,  there  are  words  in  them  that  will  wring  my 
brother's  heart  if  shown  or  known.  They  tell  of  mat 
ters  he  would  never  speak  of  even  to  me.  They  give 
a  reason  for  his  determination  to  save  Mr.  Kearny 
from  going  to  a  Southern  prison  or  taking  his  chances 
with  other  men.  Father  !  Would  he  forgive  me 
if  I  let  it  go?  He  bade  me  keep  it  until  the  war 
was  over,  that  he  might  show  how  he  redeemed  his 
pledge." 

"It  can  be  in  no  safer  hands  than  those  of  Colonel 
Westerlo,  my  child,"  answered  the  old  judge  at  last. 
"  He  will  guard  it  for  us,  to  be  used  only  in  such  case 
as  he  described;  and  let  me  say  this  to  you,  sir:  there 
are  other  papers,  there  are  letters  which  it  may  be  in 
our  power  to  show  you  that  will  strengthen  the  im 
pression  which  you  predict  as  a  result  of  this.  And 
again,  look  at  our  situation  ;  since  the  hour  it  was 
known  that  we  had  befriended  a  Federal  officer,  and 
stood  between  him  and  capture  and  imprisonment, 
every  friend  we  ever  had  in  all  this  state  turned  from 
us  on  the  instant.  We  are  utterly  alone.  Sir,  we  will 
not  accept  aid  or  comfort  for  ourselves.  Let  this 
prove  my  words" — and  he  turned  to  Lucy — "the 
package,  daughter,  with  Major  Kearny's  money;  bring 
it  here.  I  shall  ask  you,  colonel,  to  see  that  it  is  safe 
ly  restored  to  him.  We  will  not,  I  say,  ask  or  accept 
15 


226  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

aid  for  ourselves,  but  should  you  ever  hear  of  my  boy 
in  danger  of  his  life  or  honor,  you  will  not  forget  ?" 

"  Forget  ?  By  Heaven  !  I  could  as  soon  forget  my 
mother's  face,"  answered  Westerlo.  "  With  every 
time  I  look  upon  your  daughter's  eyes  I  am  ready  to 
implore  that  you  should  let  me  take  you — take  you 
and  her  to  my  home.  There  you  are  safe,  at  least,  as 
my  own  ;  there  you  can  have  tender  care  and  nursing, 
and  your  health  will  return.  Judge  Armistead,  surely 
it  can  be  done." 

"  You  are  a  noble,  a  knightly  soldier,  Colonel  West 
erlo.  From  my  heart  I  thank  you.  It  is  too  late — 
too  late.  I  shall  never  leave  Virginia;  but  when  I 
am  gathered  to  my  fathers,  she — my  child — will  bo 
utterly  alone  here.  If  then — if  then — " 

"  Hush  !  she  comes.  Then,  now,  at  any  time  hence 
forth,  she  shall  be  as  my  own.  You  have  my  word." 

And  Judge  Armistead's  trembling  hand  sought  and 
clasped  the  broad  and  sinewy  palm  extended  to  him 
as  the  two  men  looked  in  each  other's  eyes.  Then 
Lucy  re-entered  the  room,  and  handed  to  her  father 
the  sealed  packet  and  some  letters. 

An  hour  later  Colonel  Westerlo  had  bidden  them 
adieu  and  started  on  his  return.  He  had  exchanged 
a  few  words  with  Captain  Wise,  and  given  him  some 
hints  as  to  the  propriety  of  diminishing  his  guards 
and  augmenting  his  personal  courtesies  to  the  stricken 
household.  He  had  made  arrangements  to  have  the 
assistant  surgeon  sent  up  to  see  the  failing  old  man, 
and  he  had  stolen  into  the  kitchen  and  had  a  brief 
consultation  with  Aunt  Bell,  as  a  result  of  which  some 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  227 

more  boxes  were  smuggled  over  from  the  camp  of  the 
cavalry  detachment.  Then,  bearing  his  precious  doc 
uments,  he  waved  his  hand  in  adieu  to  Lucy,  who  ap 
peared  one  instant  on  the  piazza,  and  set  forth  on  his 
return. 

Two  miles  outside  of  headquarters  he  came  upon 
the  cavalry  picket  at  a  fork  of  the  road.  The  ser 
geant  looked  up  eagerly  as  he  saluted  the  popular  old 
field-officer. 

"  They're  expecting  you  back,  colonel,  and  are  get 
ting  mighty  impatient,  from  what  I  can  learn." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,  except  that  the  man  we  took 
to  be  Tierney  isn't  him  at  all.  It  is  a  Reb  officer 
we've  got,  running  our  lines  as  a  spy  in  disguise. 
There's  going  to  be  a  hanging  at  sunrise." 

"  My  God  !"  was  all  Westerlo  could  say  as  he  struck 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  urged  him  to  the  gallop. 


XXII. 

DESPITE  the  vigor  of  his  actions  as  temporary  com 
mander  of  the  district,  "  old  Van  Duzen  "  was  a  sorely 
perturbed  official.  Some  one  had  succeeded  in  arous 
ing  in  his  mind  grave  distrust  as  to  the  security  of 
his  position.  Mosby,  it  is  true,  had  scampered  away 
to  the  Shenandoah,  and  was  frequently  heard  of  at 
various  points  along  that  beautiful  valley.  Graham, 
with  three  regiments,  had  given  chase,  and  was  now 
separated  by  many  a  long  mile  from  the  inexperienced 
soldier  whose  years  had  pointed  him  out  as  a  good 
man  to  leave  behind  when  rapid  marching  was  ex 
pected  of  the  column,  and  whose  prominence  in  poli 
tics  gave  him,  supposably,  some  qualifications  as  a 
manager  of  local  affairs.  It  was  by  no  means  a  tur 
bulent  neighborhood.  All  the  people  who  had  else 
where  to  go  had  long  since  left  so  dangerous  a  field  as 
that  which  lay  subject  to  incessant  incursions  from 
troopers  of  the  opposing  forces.  Most  of  the  little 
towns  were  well-nigh  depopulated.  Few  of  the  farms 
had  other  tenants  than  the  birds  of  the  air ;  but  what 
made  the  region  full  of  wordless  terrors  to  the  old 
politician-colonel  was  the  close  proximity  of  the  fords 
and  bridges  of  the  upper  Rappahannock — only  a  long 
day's  inarch  away.  Beyond  them  his  scouts  dare  not 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  229 

venture,  and  who  could  say  what  that  restless  rider, 
Stuart,  might  not  be  doing  on  the  southern  shore  ? 
Night  and  day  Van  Duzen's  dream  was  of  a  sudden 
rush  past  his  outposts,  and  a  furious  descent  upon  his 
scantily  garrisoned  camp.  He  had  pickets  and  out 
posts  covering  every  road  for  miles  to  the  south  and 
east.  He  sent  couriers  every  day  to  follow  the  Shen- 
andoah  column,  and  he  besieged  the  War  Department 
with  despatches  urging  that  he  be  strongly  rein 
forced.  The  country,  he  said,  was  full  of  spies.  He 
had  every  reason  to  expect  a  dash  of  Rebel  cavalry 
any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  He  was  ready  to  fight 
to  the  last  man,  so  he  declared  in  ringing  reports  to 
an  admiring  constituency  at  home,  but  he  begged  his 
friends  to  urge  their  representatives  at  Washington  to 
insist  on  his  being  instantly  and  greatly  strengthened. 
By  this  time,  as  was  well  known  at  the  War  Depart 
ment,  Stuart  was  kept  very  busy  along  the  lower  Rap- 
pahannock  watching  the  movements  of  Hooker's  dra 
goons  ;  but  Van  Duzen  was  one  of  those  men  who 
could  hardly  believe  that  the  cause  of  the  rebellion 
cherished  one  higher  ambition  than  to  capture  and 
carry  off  to  Richmond  no  less  a  personage  than  him 
self,  and  he  would  sooner  be  shot,  he  said,  than  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Confederacy.  Yet  he  enjoyed, 
after  a  way  of  his  own,  the  prominence  of  his  posi 
tion.  In  the  absence  of  news  from  other  sources  the 
representatives  of  the  press  had  no  trouble  in  getting 
whole  columns  of  sensation  from  his  oracular  lips. 
"Special  correspondents"  were  easily  obtainable 
among  his  henchmen,  and  the  vehement  and  vigorous 


230  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

efforts  of  the  gallant  Colonel  Van  Duzen  in  the  sup 
pression  of  the  rebellion  were  daily  thrilling  thou 
sands  and  thousands  of  readers  with  reviving  hope, 
and  people  were  already  wondering  how  long  an  un 
grateful  administration  would  delay  his  promotion 
to  a  generalship  ;  and  Major  Kearny  had  just  marched 
across  the  Long  Bridge  with  his  new  regiment  when 
he  was  startled,  and  many  a  reader  electrified,  by  the 
tidings  that  Colonel  Van  Duzen  had  captured  within 
his  lines,  disguised  as  a  Union  scout  and  amply  pro 
vided  with  authentic  orders,  credentials,  etc.,  an  officer 
holding  confidential  relations  with  General  "  Jeb " 
Stuart — "a  distinguished  scion  of  the  F.  F.  V.'s" — 
Major  Henry  Armistead  of  the  Confederate  Cavalry  ; 
and  that  it  was  probable  that  the  fate  of  the  spy, 
death  by  hanging,  would  be  the  penalty  of  his  rash 
ness  before  the  setting  of  another  sun.  He  had  safe 
ly  penetrated  the  lines,  said  this  glowing  account ; 
had  obtained  most  important  information  as  to  our 
forces,  their  numbers  and  position,  and  was  just  about 
returning  when  arrested  by  the  vigilance  and  unerring 
judgment  of  Colonel  Van  Duzen.  At  first  he  stoutly 
maintained  that  he  was  what  his  papers  represented 
him — a  scout  and  secret-service  employee,  but  he  was 
recognized  at  once  by  several  "intelligent  contra 
bands  "  who  had  known  him  for  years,  and  when  ar 
rested  was  in  the  act  of  bidding  farewell  to  his  ven 
erable  father  at  his  home  near  Hopeville  Gap.  The 
case  against  him  was  clear,  and  it  was  absolutely  nec 
essary,  said  the  scribe,  that  a  stern  example  be  prompt 
ly  made.  Ample  authority  had  already  been  given 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  231 

Colonel  Van  Duzen  in  the  premises,  and  there  could 
be  no  question  that  so  fervent  a  patriot  and  sterling  a 
soldier  would  do  his  full  duty. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Kearny,  miles  away,  and 
Westerlo,  close  at  hand,  were  spurring  that  night  to 
reach  the  scene  before  the  fatal  order  could  be  carried 
into  effect.  Westerlo  was  on  the  spot  and  in  presence 
of  the  district  commander  as  the  cavalry  trumpets 
were  sounding  tattoo.  Kearny  was  clattering  through 
the  streets  of  a  well-nigh  deserted  village  with  an  all- 
night  ride  before  him.  Few  words  were  needed  to  gain 
the  desired  permission.  His  new  colonel  was  an  old 
soldier  of  the  ante-bellum  days,  who  knew  the  story  of 
his  young  major's  rescue  and  preservation  by  that 
very  family,  who  already  half  suspected  that  his  heart 
was  left  behind  him  in  the  shadows  of  the  Bull  Run 
range,  who  had  noted  the  eagerness  with  which  ho 
rode  forth  upon  the  well-remembered  highway  beyond 
Fort  Runyon  when  they  reached  the  "sacred  soil" 
that  morning  ;  and  who  knew  his  suspicions  were  well 
grounded  when  at  nightfall  Kearny  came  to  him,  pa 
per  in  hand,  trembling  at  the  lips  with  anxiety  and 
emotion,  to  proffer  his  request  to  be  allowed  to  push 
ahead  without  delay. 

Meanwhile  old  Westerlo  had  lost  no  time.  Briefly 
reporting  to  his  superior  the  result  of  his  observations 
during  the  day,  he  asked  the  honor  of  a  private  inter 
view,  and  Van  Duzen,  hardly  knowing  what  to  make 
of  the  matter,  acceded.  He  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  the 
educated  soldier  whom  the  fortunes  of  a  war  replete 
with  oddest  fortunes  had  thrown  under  his  command. 


232  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  I  hear  from  several  sources  as  I  return  to  camp," 
began  Westerlo,  the  moment  they  were  alone,  "a 
strange  story.  Is  it  true,  colonel,  that  our  prisoner 
is  recognized  as  Captain  Armistead,  the  son  of  the 
poor  old  gentleman  at  Hopeville  ?" 

"  It  is  true,  sir,  beyond  a  doubt.  His  identity  was 
discovered  to  us  just  after  you  left  by  a  faithful 
colored  man,  and  corroborated  by  several  others.  It 
is  a  most  important  arrest — a  most  important  arrest. 
I  telegraphed  the  news  at  once  to  Washington — at 
least,  my  adjutant  assures  me  it  went  at  once,  and 
the  line  is  fortunately  up.  They  make  no  reply.  It 
is  evident  they  have  full  confidence  in  my  ability 
and  intention  to  carry  out  the  custom  of  war  in  like 
cases." 

"  And,  pardon  me,  you  will  wait  no  instructions  ?" 

"  I  need  none,  sir,"  was  the  stately  reply.  "  I  know 
my  duty — painful  though  it  be.  So  flagrant  a  case, 
after  all  we  have  published  as  to  our  intentions,  can 
not  be  overlooked.  Why,  sir,  it  was  sheer  bravado — 
Southern  braggadocio — that  prompted  that  young  cox 
comb  to  dare  me  in  this  way.  I  have  not  a  doubt, 
sir,  he  has  seen  my  proclamation  to  the  people  of  this 
district,  and  he  and  his  fellow-rebels  put  up  the  scheme 
to  make  me  a  laughing-stock — a  laughing-stock.  He 
dared  to  ride  clear  through  my  lines,  sir,  and  doubtless 
vaunted  himself  on  the  exploit,  and  now  was  going 
back,  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  me,  to  bring  Stuart 
and  his  whole  force  at  his  heels  to  drag  us  off  to  Libby. 
But  I  beat  him  at  his  own  game,  sir,  and  we'll  see  how 
he'll  laugh  to-morrow." 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  233 

"  You  will  hang  him  then,  I  judge  ?"  said  Westerlo, 
quietly. 

"  What  else  ?  What  said  our  immortal  Washing 
ton  of  Andre — 'He  was  hanged  as  a  spy' — did  he 
not?" 

"Words  to  that  effect,  colonel,  as  I  remember ;  yet, 
was  there  not  something  else?  'He  was  tried  as  a 
spy.'  Have  you  tried  Captain  Armistead  ?" 

"  Cid  bono,  Colonel  Westerlo,  cui  bono  ?  Why 
attempt  to  prove  a  self-evident  proposition?  What 
could  be  clearer  than  his  case  ?" 

"Colonel  Van  Duzen,  I  am  too  old  a  soldier  to 
argue  with  my  senior  ;  I  am  too  respectful  to  you, 
personally  and  officially,  to  venture  a  word  of  advice 
without  your  full  consent  and  by  your  invitation.  I 
have  asked  a  private  interview  that  no  man  might 
know  I  ventured  to  ask  you,  my  commander,  to  con 
sider  one  little  point.  Sir,  while  I  have  been  a  soldier 
from  boyhood,  humble  and  accustomed  to  obey,  yours 
has  been  the  proud  gift  to  be  a  ruler  of  men,  a  swayer 
of  the  public  mind.  Yours  is  a  name  with  which  our 
state  resounds — mine  is  known  but  as  your  loyal  sub 
ordinate.  I  would  not  for  one  moment  question  your 
judgment  in  this  most  important  matter.  It  is  to  pre 
sent  to  you  a  phase  of  the  question  you  cannot  yet 
have  heard  that  I  am  here — to  ask  it  of  you,  not  as  a 
right,  but  as  a  favor." 

Van  Duzen  was  disarmed.  The  subtle  tribute  to 
his  greatness  was  more  than  the  statesman  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna  could  withstand. 

"  Proceed,  Colonel  Westerlo,"  he  answered,  with  be- 


234  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

coming  dignity,  yet  with  softened  manner.  "  I  shall 
be  glad  of  the  counsel  of  so  eminent  a  soldier." 

"  They  tell  me,  colonel,  he  is  to  hang  at  sunrise.  I 
question  not  that  you  are  satisfied  your  authority  is 
ample,  and  that  the  government  will  interpose  no  or 
ders  or  delays.  I  look  upon  you,  indeed,  as  having 
final  jurisdiction  in  the  matter,  and  realize  that  the 
fate  of  this  unhappy  youth  is  solely  in  your  hands. 
It  is  to  you,  therefore,  I  bring  these  papers,  confided 
to  me  as  a  sacred  charge,  and  ask  your  consideration 
of  one  point.  He  is  here,  this  young  rebel,  in  disguise 
and  with  false  papers.  This  brings  him  within  the 
penalties  of  your  proclamation,  and  yet,  if  I  prove  to 
you  he  came  not  as  a  spy,  but  solely  to  pay  a  last 
visit,  as  he  supposed,  to  a  dying  father,  will  it  not  in 
duce  you  to  defer  his  execution  until  another  day,  that 
he  may  see  once  more  the  dear  ones  of  his  home." 

"And  meantime  have  Jeb  Stuart  rushing  in  and 
whisking  the  whole  crowd  of  us  off  to  Libby  ?  Thank 
you,  Colonel  Westerlo,  but  delays  are  dangerous.  I 
tell  you,  sir,  this  war  has  been  conducted  too  long  on 
the  kid-glove  principle.  The  nation — the  people — de 
mand  of  us  that  we  now  take  the  bull  of  the  rebellion 
by  the  horns  and  crush  the  viper  to  earth."  (Van 
Duzen's  metaphors,  with  his  toddies,  became  mixed 
in  equal  proportions,  and  Westerlo  looked  anxiously 
around  him,  sure  of  seeing  somewhere  the  demijohn 
of  Monongahela  which  was  an  invariable  accompani 
ment  of  his  senior's  campaigning.)  "I  conceive  it  to 
be  my  bounden  duty  to  make  an  immediate  and  telling 
example  of  this  case,  and  I  have  so  decided." 


BETWEEN   THE   LIXES.  235 

"  One  moment  more.  Bear  with  me,  my  colonel," 
said  the  old  trooper.  "Last  year  a  young  officer  of 
high  connections  and  distinguished  family  was  shot 
and  captured  while  carrying  despatches.  Ah  !  You 
know  the  story.  I  will  not  weary  your  patience,  sir. 
It  was  the  father  and  the  sister  of  this  gentleman  now 
your  prisoner  who  braved  the  wrath  of  all  Virginia, 
who  sacrificed  their  social  standing,  who  lost  every 
friend  they  ever  had  in  this  community,  to  save  that 
suffering  comrade  from  a  fate  you  declare  to  be  worse 
than  death.  You  know  the  circumstances,  but  you 
cannot  know,  as  I  do,  the  sorrow  and  the  sufferings  of 
these  noble  but  most  unfortunate  people.  Sir,  the 
revered  old  judge  who  so  humanely  gave  Lieutenant 
Kearny  the  shelter  of  his  name  and  fireside  now  lies 
at  the  door  of  death,  heart-broken  at  the  calamity  that 
has  befallen  his  only  son.  The  fair,  lovely  daughter 
whose  tender  care  nursed  our  Union  soldier  back  to 
life  and  strength,  whose  quick  woman's  art  found  him 
a  hiding-place  when  the  Rebel  authorities  searched  the 
premises  for  him,  the  only  sister  of  this  condemned 
Virginian  is  at  her  father's  bedside  sustained  from  de 
spair  and  utter  prostration  only  by  his  imminent  need 
of  her  care.  When  you  hang  Henry  Armistead,  you 
kill  one,  perhaps  both,  of  those  loving  souls  at  his 
home  across  the  range.  Sir,  I  implore  you,  grant  us 
respite  for  one  brief  day.  I  say  us,  for  I  have  learned 
to  know  and  honor  these  people.  I  say  us  because 
their  grief  has  become  mine." 

Van  Duzen  was  silent.  He  would  gladly  have  found 
a  good  way  out  of  the  mire  in  which  his  high-flown 


236  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

proclamations  and  portentous  threats  had  plunged 
him.  On  the  other  hand,  would  not  all  the  morning 
papers  of  his  native  state  and  of  the  waiting  North  be 
filled  with  details  of  the  energetic  measures  taken  by 
Colonel  Van  Duzen  to  crush  the  rebellion  at  its  very 
core  ?  Of  his  pursuit  and  capture  of  this  dangerous 
and  desperate  man  ?  Of  his  stern  but  soldierly  course  ? 
Of  the  last  night  of  the  condemned  man  on  earth  ?  It 
would  never  do  to  weaken  now.  Never  ! 

"I  appreciate  your  feeling,  Colonel  Westerlo.  I 
would  gladly  show  these  people  how  we  value  the 
services  they  rendered  to  a  loyal  son  of  the  Union, 
but  they  cannot  ask  of  us  the  life  of  a  spy  for  the  life 
of  a  soldier.  Depend  upon  it,  this  misguided  young 
man  would  be  among  the  first  to  condemn  their  action 
and  upbraid  them  for  their  disloyalty  to  their  state. 
It  would  be  very  different  had  we  been  indebted  to 
him  for  Major  Kearny's  life." 

"  You  admit,  do  I  understand,  that  it  would  induce 
you  to  suspend  sentence  if  it  were  young  Armistead 
to  whom  we  owed  Kearny's  life  ?"  tremblingly  asked 
Westerlo,  though  striving  to  veil  his  deep  anxiety. 

"  Well — ah — at  an  earlier  stage  of  the  proceedings 
it  would  have  had  great  weight — great  weight.  Things 
have  gone  so  far,  however — " 

"  Colonel  Van  Duzen,  forgive  my  haste.  Forgive 
me  that  I  interrupt,  but  listen  ;  Henry  Armistead  and 
Frank  Kearny  were  intimate  and  devoted  friends  in 
their  college  days.  A  romantic  incident  separated 
and  made  a  coldness  between  them.  It  was  the  fort 
une  of  war  that  threw  the  latter,  wounded,  senseless, 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  237 

and  bleeding,  into  the  hands  of  the  former.  It  was 
Armistead  who  tenderly  cared  for  his  captive  for  two 
days  and  nights  until  he  found  means  to  send  him  to 
his  father's  house.  It  was  he  who  exacted  of  his  peo 
ple  that  they  should  conceal  him,  nurse  him,  restore 
him  to  life  and  liberty,  and  the  service  of  the  Union 
again  if  need  be,  that  his  promise  might  be  kept  un 
sullied.  Here  is  the  letter  he  wrote.  Listen  : 

" '  IN  THE  FIELD,  NEAR  GAINESVILLE,  August  30, 1862. 

"  *  FATHER, — The  strangest  fortune  that  ever  fell  to  soldier's  lot  is 
mine  to-night.  You  know  the  old  intimacy  and  friendship  that  ex 
isted  between  Frank  Kearny  and  me  at  Princeton.  We  were  like 
brothers  until  our  senior  year,  when  there  came  between  us  a  cloud — 
a  woman.  I  loved  her — and  the  quarrel  was  my  fault.  In  the  win 
ter  of  '60-'61  he  came  to  Richmond  and  we  met  as  friends,  but  there 
were  subjects,  this  among  them,  on  which  we  could  not  speak.  In 
the  spring  that  followed,  after  Sumter's  guns,  I  hastened  hither  from 
New  York,  where  J  had  gone  to  see  her.  She  told  me  gently  that  my 
hopes  were  all  in  vain — that  her  heart  was  his — that  he  had  already 
volunteered  for  the  war.  There  is  no  need  to  tell  you  what  this 
meant  to  me.  Before  we  parted  she  had  won  from  me  this  promise 
— God  knows  I  gave  it  solemnly,  and,  pitying  her  fears  and  sorrow, 
with  my  heart  in  my  words — that  if  ever  he  fell  into  my  hands,  and 
it  lay  in  my  power  to  save  him,  save  him  I  would. 

"  '  Thursday  night,  late,  I  had  ventured  with  a  small  detachment  to 
strike  the  road  between  the  Federal  cavalry  and  the  lines  at  Hay- 
market,  hoping  to  pick  up  staff-officers  or  stragglers.  Luck  was  with 
us.  An  officer  strove  to  cut  his  way  through,  and  in  the  excitement 
and  darkness  my  men  almost  killed  before  they  could  capture  him. 
Then,  by  the  faint  light  of  a  camp-fire  in  the  woods  I  examined  my 
unconscious  prize,  and  found  myself  face  to  face  with — my  promise. 

" '  Bleeding,  senseless,  stunned,  and  bruised,  he  has  lain  here  hid 
den  for  two  days,  nursed  by  the  negroes  who  bear  him  to  you  and 
tended  by  a  surgeon  whom  I  brought  to  him.  I  had  to  leave  him  all 


238  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

day  to  take  my  part  in  the  glorious  rietory  we  have  won.  The  Yan 
kees  are  in  full  retreat  upon  Washington.  We  go  at  dawn  with 
Jackson  to  strike  their  flank.  Honor  calls  me  with  my  troop — my 
word  of  honor  is  given  here.  In  your  hands  and  in  Lucy's  I  place 
my  captive  and  my  faith.  As  you  love  me,  as  you  would  preserve 
my  honor  unsullied,  receive  this  helpless  enemy  of  our  cause  beneath 
your  roof.  Conceal  him  from  those  who  would  take  him  to  imprison 
ment  in  which  he  would  languish  and  die.  When  occasion  offers,  re 
store  him  to  his  friends,  and  when  all  is  over— the  war  or  my  life — 
send  this  to  her,  that  the  woman  I  loved  may  know  how  an  Armis- 
tead  kept  his  word — even  though  it  was  to  give  her  to  another's  arms. 
" '  Lucy,  you  know  her  name.  Do  not  speak  it  to  a  soul  until  this 
letter  is  to  be  sent  to  her.  Dear  ones  both,  God  bless  and  guard  you, 
and  sustain  me  in  the  cause  we  love. 

"  '  Yours  ever,  HENRY  ARMISTEAD.'  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  in  the  room  of  the 
old  Virginia  house  in  which  the  colonel  was  making 
his  headquarters.  Then  "Westerlo  spoke  again. 

"  Colonel  Van  Duzen,  would  you  hang  as  a  spy  a 
man  like  that — when  he  hasn't  been  spying  at  all  ?" 


XXIII. 

THERE  were  some  sorely  disappointed  men  among 
the  "camp  followers"  around  district  headquarters 
during  the  next  few  days.  Full  and  graphic  details 
of  the  hanging  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  sons 
of  a  most  distinguished  Virginia  family  having  been 
prepared  in  advance,  several  correspondents  having 
spent  the  night  in  writing  touching  descriptions  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  Rebel  spy  refused  all  friend 
ly  offices  (he  had  simply  declined  to  be  interviewed), 
and  one  energetic  gentleman  having  "pre-empted" 
the  telegraph  wire  at  no  inconsiderable  expense,  it 
was  hard  luck  that  they  should  be  greeted  with  the 
rising  of  the  sun  with  such  cheerless  tidings  as  that 
the  condemned  man  had  been  accorded  a  respite.  The 
soldiers  broke  ranks  after  reveille  roll-call,  and  scat 
tered  about  their  fires  and  coffee-kettles  with  un 
feigned  alacrity  and  cheerfulness.  They  were  all 
"  ready  and  willing  to  blaze  away  and  kill  Armisteads 
by  the  dozen  in  fair  stand-up  fight,  or  sabre  them  in 
a  cavalry  charge,  where  every  man  had  a  show  for  his 
life,"  said  one  old  troop  commander  ;  "  but  this  here 
hanging  a  fellow  in  sight  of  his  friends  and  neighbors 
is  too  one-sided  a  business  for  most  of  us,  and  d — n 
me  if  I  wouldn't  rather  see  the  whole  thing  stopped." 


240  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

Around  the  house  in  which  Armistead  had  spent 
the  night  a  dozen  soldiers  armed  with  loaded  carbines 
paced  restlessly  to  and  fro.  A  dim  light  burned  in 
the  room  where  he  sat  writing  his  last  messages.  At 
dusk  the  adjutant  had  waited  upon  him,  and  with  a 
voice  that  shook  despite  his  efforts  to  control  it,  an 
nounced  to  him  that  under  authority  of  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  by  order  of  the  district  com 
mander,  he  would  be  hanged  as  a  spy  at  daybreak. 
The  idea  of  being  executed  without  trial  other  than  a 
mere  search  and  a  verbal  examination — on  his  own  ad 
mission,  too,  that  he  was  Henry  Armistead — had  not 
occurred  to  him  as  possible.  He  turned  very  pale,  but 
stood  and  looked  calmly  in  the  officer's  eyes. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  this  is  true  ?  Do  you  mean 
that  I,  who  am  in  no  sense  a  spy,  am  to  be  executed 
as  such  without  the  form  of  a  trial  and  in  such  inde 
cent  haste  ?" 

"Such  are  the  orders,  sir.  I  have  no  alternative 
but  to  tell  you  so  and  to  ask  how  I  can  serve  you 
meantime." 

Armistead  was  silent  a  moment,  then,  to  the  sur 
prise  of  his  much-embarrassed  visitor,  replied, 

"  By  leaving  me  alone  to  think  over  this  for  half  an 
hour.  Then,  if  you  will  call,  I  will  thank  you." 

And  the  adjutant  bowed  and  withdrew,  giving  orders 
to  the  sentry  at  the  door  to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  pris 
oner,  and  permit  him  to  make  no  attempt  on  his  life. 

When  the  adjutant  returned  at  the  appointed  time 
he  found  the  Virginian  seated  at  a  little  wooden  table. 
He  raised  his  head. 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  241 

"  I  presume  you  will  permit  me  to  see  one  friend  ?" 

"It  is  the  intention  of  the  colonel  to  send  at  once 
for  your  relatives  at  Hopeville.  He  has  just  succeed 
ed  in  getting  an  ambulance  up  from  Thoroughfare." 

"Spare  them  that,  and  all  knowledge  of  this — mur 
der — until  it  is  done.  My  father  lies  in  an  illness  that 
may  be  fatal.  My  sister  cannot  leave  him.  The  man 
I  ask  to  see  is  our  old  family  physician,  Dr.  Loring. 
He  lives  not  far  from  here." 

"  I  regret  that  Dr.  Loring  has  been  sent  to  Wash 
ington.  We  cannot  reach  him." 

"  Then  let  me  have  writing  materials  and  freedom 
from  interruption  of  any  kind.  It  is  all  I  ask  of  you." 

And  it  was  all  he  would  accept.  Two  officers  be 
sought  him  to  let  them  be  of  service.  Pie  returned 
their  cards  with  courteous  but  positive  refusal.  Others 
sent  steaming  coffee  and  a  hot  supper.  He  would  not 
touch  it.  The  correspondents  vainly  pleaded  for  an 
interview,  and,  his  patience  being  exhausted,  Armis- 
tead  begged  the  officer  of  the  guard  to  secure  him 
against  further  annoyance.  He  was  still  writing 
when,  near  midnight,  the  adjutant  entered,  followed 
by  an  elderly  officer  with  iron-gray  hair  and  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  man  who  had  been  for  hours  in  the  sad 
dle  over  muddy  roads. 

"  Captain  Armistead,  I  come  to  you  far  more  gladly 
than  I  did  at  retreat.  I  am  ordered  to  say  to  you  that 
Colonel  Van  Duzen  has  been  pleased  to  grant  a  res 
pite  of  two  days  in  your  case,  and  I  present  to  you 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Westerlo,  who  will  explain." 

They  were  closeted  together,  talking  in  low  tones, 
10 


242  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

after  the  first  few  formal  words,  for  over  an  hour,  and 
parted  with  fervent  shake  of  the  hand.  Then  the  old 
dragoon  went  to  his  tent.  It  was  after  one  when  his 
head  rested  at  last  upon  his  soldier  pillow,  but  his  face 
wore  a  smile  of  hope  and  content.  "  A  good  night's 
work,  you  old  schemer,"  he  muttered,  addressing  him 
self,  "  a  very  good  night's  work.  All  I  need  is  two 
days,  and  I'll  have  this  fine  fellow  out  of  danger  of 
your  halters,  Colonel  District  Commander  Van  Duzen. 
Good-night  to  you,  and  blissful  dreams,  and  may  you 
soon  be  in  Congress,  where  you  want  to  be,  or  heaven, 
where  you  deserve  to  be,  or  anywhere  out  of  the  army, 
where  you've  no  business  to  be." 

The  sun  was  high  over  the  Bull  Run  range,  and 
pouring  in  at  the  open  flap  of  his  tent,  and  his  small 
darky  servitor  had  slaved  for  hours  removing  the  mud 
from  his  garments  and  equipments,  and  polishing  his 
huge  top-boots  and  spurs,  and  still  he  slept.  Not  until 
the  trumpets  pealed  for  guard-mounting  did  he  start 
from  his  pillow,  and  found  on  the  camp-stool  by  his 
bedside  a  card  : 

"Frank   Kearny,  Major   New   Jersey.     The 

very  man,  by  Jupiter  !    Here,  Guyascutus,  my  Ethiop  ; 
where  are  you  ?     Where  is  this  gentleman  ?" 

"Just  done  come,"  was  the  effect  of  the  darky's  re 
ply.  "  He's  gone  to  speak  wid  de  officer  of  de  gyard, 
cunnel." 

"  Seek  him,  and  bid  him  breakfast  with  me,  and  see 
to  it  that  breakfast  is  ready  quick.  Go  !"  exclaimed 
the  veteran,  as  he  hastily  garbed  himself.  He  was  the 
picture  of  soldierly  trimness  and  precision,  when  in 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  243 

half  an  hour  he  emerged  from  his  tent,  and  hastened 
in  search  of  his  visitor.  Kearny,  on  the  other  hand, 
haggard,  wearied,  splashed  with  mud  from  his  all- 
night  ride,  looked  ill  by  contrast. 

"  Something  told  me  you  would  be  here  without  de 
lay,  Major  Kearny,"  said  Westcrlo,  grasping  his  hand. 
"  Come  to  my  tent  at  once.  We  will  have  breakfast 
there,  and  be  uninterrupted.  Where  heard  you  first 
the  news  of  this  affair  ?" 

"At  our  camp  a  few  miles  this  side  of  Alexandria, 
late  yesterday  afternoon.  I  left  at  dark,  the  moment 
I  could  get  away." 

"  So  ?  Then  you  have  had  a  long,  long  gallop.  You 
are  worn  out,  but  have  heard  the  good  news." 

"  I  have  ;  and  how  much  is  due  to  you  and  your 
efforts  ?  Colonel  Van  Duzen  told  me  on  my  arrival. 
I  hardly  dared  hope.  Colonel,  I  pray  God  that  no 
inkling  of  his  possible  fate  has  reached  the  family  at 
Hopeville." 

"  Bad  news  travels  fast,  but  I  send  the  surgeon  over 
there  this  morning,  and  he  will  reassure  them  if  any 
other  story  reached  them.  Still,  they  are  in  grievous 
anxiety.  My  God  !  think  of  that  poor  girl — father, 
brother,  lover,  all  going  or  gone  at  one  fell  swoop  !" 

Kearny's  face  looked  more  haggard  and  worn  than 
ever  as  he  sank  into  the  camp-chair  set  for  him  by  his 
host.  He  made  no  answer. 

"And  a  noble  fellow  is  this  Armistead,"  continued 
Westerlo,  "  a  friend  worth  having.  I  like  him  better 
than  the  lover." 

"  You  knew  him  ?"  asked  Kearny,  with  averted  face. 


244  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  I  saw  his  capture  ;  a  poor  fight  he  made  of  it. 
One  looked  for  something  better  in  a  man  who  won 
the  love  of  such  a  girl.  Ah,  Kearny,  she  is  a  heroine, 
and  he — this  Falconer — who  can  account  for  women's 
tastes  ?  Yet  he  is  handsome,  winning  I  doubt  not ; 
but  a  soldier — bah  !" 

Breakfast  seemed  to  have  few  attractions  for 
Kearny,  and  Westerlo,  wondering  at  the  sombre  mood 
and  spiritless  bearing  of  his  new  friend,  attributed  it 
mainly  to  excessive  fatigue.  He  hospitably  pressed 
him  to  eat,  and  finding  that  he  had  no  appetite,  and 
could  do  but  faint  justice  to  the  steaming  soldier  fare 
so  lavishly  set  before  him,  he  urged  him  to  remove  his 
boots  and  mud-stained  garments  and  sleep  a  few  hours. 
But  Kearny  was  restless,  and  eager  to  see  Armistead 
— a  favor  promised  him  by  the  colonel  commanding  in 
course  of  the  morning.  He  had  other  questions  to  ask. 
He  longed  to  hear  of  Lucy,  and  he  plied  Westerlo 
with  inquiries  as  to  the  condition  in  which  he  left  the 
judge  and  her.  He  astonished  the  old  dragoon  by 
grasping  and  squeezing  his  hand  when  he  spoke  of 
the  provisions  he  had  forced  upon  their  acceptance. 
He  more  than  surprised  him  by  the  consternation  and 
dismay  with  which  he  received  back  the  package  of 
money  which  up  to  that  moment  Kearny  fondly  hoped 
was  keeping  the  wolf  from  the  homestead  door.  It 
began  to  dawn  on  Westerlo  that  here  was  a  new  com 
plication,  and  Kearny's  next  inquiry  strengthened  the 
conviction. 

"  Colonel  Van  Duzen  told  me  of  Armistead's  letter. 
He  was  on  honor,  he  said,  not  to  reveal  its  contents, 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  245 

but  that  you  had  it.  I  know  that  originally  I  owed 
my  life  and  safety  to  his  letter,  though  they  showed 
me  far  more  than  it  ever  called  for  of  devoted  atten 
tion  and  watchful  care.  What  I  never  could  under 
stand  was  why  he  should  have  demanded  such  a  sacri 
fice  of  them — the  loss  of  all  local  friends  if  they  stood 
discovered.  Colonel,  I  want  to  see  that  letter.  You 
have  it,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  I  have,  but  it  was  confided  to  me  with  the  con 
dition  that  no  one  be  allowed  to  see  it  except  to  save 
his  life.  It  has  served  its  purpose  and  shall  be  restored 
to  her.  I  will  send  it  by  our  doctor  to-day.  When 
will  he  be  here,  boy  ?"  he  asked. 

"  De  doctor  done  gone,  suh.  Went  las'  night  to  de 
odder  camp  an'  ain't  come  back." 

"  Good  God  !"  cried  Westerlo,  starting  to  his  feet. 
"Then  he  has  gone  there  this  morning  and  knows 
nothing  of  the  reprieve." 

In  less  than  an  hour,  despite  his  all-night  ride, 
mounted  on  a  fresh  horse,  Frank  Kearny  was  spurring 
for  the  Gap  in  the  desperate  hope  of  reaching  the 
homestead  before  the  fatal  news.  There  was  just 
time,  before  his  steed  was  ready,  for  him  and  Wes 
terlo  to  prepare  despatches — one  to  go  at  once  to 
Colonel  Graham,  another  to  the  senator  from  New 
Jersey,  and  both  were  fervent  appeals  to  remove  Ar- 
mistead  from  the  custody  of  Van  Duzen,  and  afford 
him  fair  trial.  There  was  no  moment  in  which  to  see 
the  prisoner — Kearny  was  galloping  northward  striv 
ing  to  beat  a  rival  that  has  downed  the  best  horses 
that  ever  ran. 


XXIV. 

BAD  news  travels  fast.  Long  before  the  major 
could  reach  the  western  entrance  to  the  pass  the  as 
sistant  surgeon  had  ridden  along  the  eastern  base  of 
the  range  from  the  camp  of  the  cavalry  outpost  at 
Thoroughfare,  and  in  answer  to  an  almost  imperious 
demand  from  Lucy  had  falteringly  told  her  of  the 
discovery  of  "  Tierney's  "  real  name  and  identity,  and 
then  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  order  had  been 
issued  for  his  immediate  execution.  He  expected  an 
outburst  of  womanish  tears,  possibly  hysterics  and 
wild  lamentations,  but  he  could  have  spared  himself 
that  anxiety. 

"  It  is  confirmation  of  my  father's  fears  and  mine," 
she  said.  Her  face  was  bloodless,  her  lips  quivering 
and  almost  bluish  in  hue,  as  though  bitterly  cold  ;  her 
glorious  eyes  were  tearless  now,  but  dark  circles  had 
formed  about  them,  and  their  gaze  was  hard  and  stern. 
"Monstrous  and  murderous  as  the  decree  may  seem 
to  us,  I  presume  it  is  useless  to  appeal  to  your  com 
mander  for  mercy,"  she  presently  continued.  "You 
are  sure  Colonel  Westerlo  had  returned,  and  had  seen 
him  ?"  and  for  an  instant  there  was  almost  piteous  ap 
peal  in  the  look  she  gave  him,  and  in  the  tones  of  her 
voice. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  247 

"Yes,  Miss  Armistead,  I  grieve  to  say  he  was  clos 
eted  with  the  old  colonel  a  full  hour  before  I  came 
away,  and  we  heard  of  no  change  in  the  order.  Still, 
I  beg  you  not  to  abandon  hope." 

"  Hope  !"  and  a  flush  of  indignation  rose  for  a  mo 
ment  to  her  wan  cheek.  "  What  have  we  to  hope 
from  men  like  him  ?  At  least,  I  presume,  he  will  not 
refuse  me  one  last  word  with  my  brother,  or  if  I  come 
too  late  for  that,  the  poor  privilege  of  bringing  home 
and  burying  here  all  that  is  left  to  us." 

"  I  feel  sure  he  would  not ;  but,  forgive  me,  I  fear 
it  may  be  now  too  late." 

"You  do  not  mean — you  cannot  mean  that  they 
would  have  killed  him  already  !"  she  exclaimed,  with 
horror  in  her  face.  "  Oh,  this  is  monstrous  !  this  is 
worse  than  tyranny  !" 

"I  hope  not.  I  pray  not,"  answered  the  doctor, 
hastily.  "But  when  I  left  it  was  the  understanding 
that  it  was  to  occur  soon  after  sunrise,  and  if — if  you 
w^ere  able  to  ride  over — " 

"I  will  go  instantly  —  instantly.  Meantime  you 
will  stay  with  my  father,  will  you  not  ?  Colonel 
Westerlo  gave  me  to  hope  that  you  could  remain 
here  throughout  the  day." 

"Depend  upon  me,  Miss  Armistead;  I  have  duties 
here  with  Captain  Wise's  detachment  that  will  detain 
me  until  the  morrow,  and  I  can  spend  most  of  the 
time  at  your  father's  side.  First,  can  I  be  of  any  aid 
in  getting  your  horse  ?  My  orderly  is  here." 

"  No,  no  !  Come  at  once  to  father.  t  Say  nothing 
to  him  of  my  going.  Conceal  from  him,  if  you  can, 


248  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

the  possibility  of  my  brother's  fate,  and  if  he  awake 
and  discover  my  absence  and  demand  the  reason,  then 
let  him  understand  I  have  gone  in  hopes  of  saving 
him.  Father  was  awake  all  night,  and  has  only  with 
in  the  hour  fallen  asleep  exhausted." 

"And  you  have  a  horse ?" 

"  None  ;  but  Colonel  Westerlo  left  some  instruc 
tions  with  Captain  Wise,  and  he  will  surely  let  me 
have  one.  My  habit  and  saddle  are  left ;  our  horses 
were  taken  long  ago." 

And  so,  almost  at  the  hour  when  Major  Kearny  set 
forth  from  camp,  Lucy  Armistead,  mounted  on  a  spare 
horse  of  Captain  Wise's,  and  escorted  by  that  gentle 
man  himself,  rode  westward  up  the  pass,  and  was 
soon  across  the  range.  Wise  had  been  summoned 
from  his  early  breakfast  by  a  message  from  the  guard, 
saying  "the*  young  lady"  wished  to  see  him  at  once. 
His  half-hour's  talk  with  Colonel  Westerlo  the  pre 
vious  day  had  filled  his  soul  with  sympathy  and  sor 
row  for  the  unhappy  occupants  of  the  homestead,  and 
Miss  Armistead's  beauty  had  long  since  undermined 
the  soldier  sternness  with  which  he  had  entered  upon 
his  duties.  He  obeyed  her  summons  with  alacrity, 
but  was  aghast  at  sight  of  her  white,  quivering  face 
and  trembling  hands.  She  was  exerting  every  effort 
to  preserve  her  self-control,  but  the  struggle  was 
painfully  apparent.  In  few  words  she  told  him  al 
most  coldly  of  her  brother's  death-warrant,  and  begged 
that  she  might  have,  a  horse  to  ride  over  into  the  val 
ley  and  down  to  Van  Duzen's  headquarters.  There 
might  be  time  for  one  last  appeal,  or  for  a  few  words 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  249 

of  farewell.  Wise  never  hesitated  a  minute.  Miss 
Armistead  should  have  the  best  horse  in  his  squadron, 
and  he  himself  would  escort  her.  Captain  Wise  added, 
below  his  breath,  "  Court-martial  be  blowed  ;  I  can't 
stand  this  !"  Miss  Armistead  assured  him  she  needed 
no  escort  ;  but  he  knew  better,  and  when  she  would 
have  declined  it,  he  told  her  he  was  sorry  to  force  his 
company  upon  her,  but  as  his  orders  were  to  allow 
none  of  the  inmates  of  the  homestead  to  get  beyond 
his  lines,  he  must  make  those  lines  as  elastic  as  possi 
ble  by  going  with  her  himself.  In  twenty  minutes 
she  was  in  her  riding-habit  and  the  saddle  ;  had 
printed  one  kiss  upon  her  sleeping  father's  forehead, 
breathed  one  brief  prayer  to  God  for  divine  protec 
tion  and  guidance,  and  then  rode  past  the  pickets  with 
her  cavalry  escort  at  her  horse's  heels,  the  admiration 
of  every  soldier  of  the  guard. 

They  had  not  reached  the  village  of  Hopeville 
when,  thundering  up  the  rocky  road,  his  horse  all 
foam,  there  came  suddenly  into  sight  a  horseman  in 
the  Union  blue.  Miss  Armistead  had  been  urging  the 
pace  at  every  practicable  stretch  of  the  winding  pas 
sage  through  the  range,  and  her  sad  eyes  were  gaz 
ing  eagerly  ahead  as  they  turned  a  shoulder  of  the 
heights  to  their  left.  She  reined  in,  however,  the  mo 
ment  this  solitary  rider  came  in  view,  and  if  Wise  had 
not  been  looking  at  him  instead  of  at  her,  he  would 
have  noted  how  her  pale  cheek  began  to  glow  the  in 
stant  the  expression  of  her  eyes  changed  from  min 
gled  surprise,  incredulity,  and  hope  to  undoubted  re 
lief  and  joy.  The  next  instant  the  tall  horseman  had 


250  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

trotted  up,  whirled  his  steed  to  the  left  about,  and  was 
at  her  side,  bowing  with  cavalier  grace  over  the  pom 
mel  of  his  saddle,  and  baring  his  close-cropped  head 
as  he  saluted  her.  Wise,  riding  on  her  right,  noted 
the  gold  leaf  on  the  cavalry  strap,  and  made  up  his 
mind  that  this  could  be  no  other  than  the  Major 
Kearny  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much.  She  had 
turned  away  from  her  escort  to  greet  the  new-comer, 
and  her  face  was  for  the  moment  hidden  from  him  ; 
but  the  instant  he  heard  her  voice  responding  to  the 
major's  salutation,  the  captain  concluded  it  his  duty 
to  fall  back  and  give  a  word  of  instruction  to  the 
brace  of  troopers  who  followed  them.  Before  he  could 
carry  out  his  intention,  without  being  too  abrupt,  he 
heard  her  almost  breathless  inquiry  for  Henry,  and 
Kearny's  deep-toned  answer  : 

"  Reprieved  and  probably  safe.  Something  told 
me  you  would  hear  the  contrary,  and  I  came  at  once." 

For  a  moment  she  could  make  no  reply.  She  bent 
forward  over  her  horse's  neck,  covering  her  eyes  with 
her  slender  hand  in  its  worn  old  riding-glove.  Kearny 
leaned  towards  her,  his  eyes  yearning  over  her,  his  arm 
half  outstretched  as  though  eager  to  catch  and  sup 
port  her  should  she  sway  or  reel.  No  word  was  audi 
bly  spoken  in  the  next  minute,  but  Wise  could  sec  in 
half  a  glance  that  Kearny's  lips  were  moving,  and  that 
he  was  murmuring  something  intended  probably  for 
her  ears  alone.  The  three  horses  were  ambling  peace 
fully  abreast,  glad  of  the  chance  of  a  breathing-spell, 
and  Wise  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  troopers  in 
the  rear  and  concluded  that  now  was  his  time.  He 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  251 

reined  back,  but  she  missed  the  click  of  the  hoofs  on 
her  right,  rallied  in  an  instant,  and,  brushing  the  tears 
from  her  eyes,  raised  her  head  and  called  him. 

"  You  gentlemen  have  not  met  before  ?"  she  asked. 
"  Major  Kearny,  let  me  present  Captain  Wise,  who 
has  been  very,  very  kind  to  us  to-day." 

And  Kearny  drew  back  his  panting  steed,  and  ex 
tended  a  gauntleted  hand  to  the  captain  over  the  croup 
of  her  horse.  Wise  remembered  the  force  of  that  grip 
for  weeks  afterward.  Again  he  would  have  retired 
and  yielded  his  place  to  his  senior  officer,  but  again  it 
was  she  who  interposed.  The  road  was  wide  enough 
for  three  now  that  they  were  fairly  out  of  the  Gap, 
and  she  would  not  hear  of  his  going.  Wise  looked 
uneasily  at  the  major,  but  could  read  nothing  in  his 
impassive  face.  Kearny  plainly  saw  that,  the  first 
emotion  and  excitement  over,  and  her  anxiety  as  to 
Henry's  fate  measurably  allayed,  she  was  again  mis 
tress  of  herself  and  of  the  situation.  She  did  not 
mean  to  be  alone  with  him  to  the  exclusion  of  any 
other  man,  and  he  was  as  proud  as  she. 

He  was  worn  and  jaded  from  his  all-night  ride  and 
his  hours  of  vigil  and  sleeplessness.  He  would  give 
her  no  hint  cf  the  pains  and  labor  he  had  undergone 
in  Henry's  behalf  and.  on  her  account.  He  somewhat 
bitterly  said  to  himself  it  was  a  matter  she  would  not 
care  to  know,  and  he  never  dreamed,  as  he  rode  in 
moody  silence  by  her  side,  or  spoke  calmly  and  with 
simulated  cheerfulness  of  his  confidence  in  her  brother's 
transfer  from  the  hands  of  the  fiery  Van  Duzen,  that 
down  in  the  bottom  of  her  sorrowing  and  tender  heart 


252  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

she  well  knew  he  could  not  have  been  with  the  neigh 
boring  command  on  the  previous  day.  Indeed,  had 
not  Westerlo  told  them  he  was  with  his  new  regiment 
en  route  to  Washington?  and  that  in  some  way  he 
must  have  heard  the  news,  and,  like  the  knight  he  was, 
had  hastened  to  the  rescue  and  then  to  her  side? 
Even  in  the  anguish  of  her  anxiety  and  dread  there 
was  a  joy  in  this  consciousness  against  which  she 
strove  in  vain.  What  but  love  for  her  could  have 
brought  him  here — here  at  her  side?  Gratitude  and 
a  sense  of  obligation  might  have  hurried  him  forward 
to  Henry's  prison,  but  he  would  have  stopped  there, 
his  work  accomplished,  had  he  not  loved  her  and 
longed  to  bring  her  the  tidings  of  the  reprieve. 

And  yet  no  sign  of  this  would  she  let  him  see.  Was 
there  not  still  another  between  them  ? 

Late  that  afternoon  brother  and  sister  were  seated  in 
his  guarded  room,  holding  a  few  moments'  converse 
while  the  captain  was  making  preparations  for  her  re 
turn.  Not  without  difficulty  had  Westerlo  and  Kearny 
succeeded  in  obtaining  for  her  the  privilege  of  spend 
ing  those  intervening  hours  with  the  prisoner.  "  Old 
Van"  was  already  beginning  to  repent  him  of  his 
clemency,  and  to  mourn  what  might  be  a  lost  oppor 
tunity.  He  had  read  of  Southern  women  who  fur 
nished  lovers  or  brothers  with  means  of  escape.  What 
was  to  prevent  her  giving  him  poison  with  which  to 
cheat  the  government  of  its  punishment  of  the  spy? 
Kearny  clinched  the  matter  and  put  an  end  to  the 
argument  by  saying  that  he  gave  his  word  of  honor 
that  nothing  of  that  kind  would  be  attempted;  and 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  253 

when  Van  Duzen  looked  dubious,  he  added  brief  men 
tion  of  one  or  two  senatorial  names,  at  which  the  Penn- 
sylvanian  surrendered.  He  was  politician  enough  to 
know  the  influence  of  the  Kearnys  and  the  New  Jersey 
delegation,  and  to  yield  gracefully  in  presence  of  such 
odds. 

At  one  hour  of  the  day  Westerlo  and  Kearny  were 
allowed  to  hold  a  consultation  with  the  prisoner  and 
his  sorrowing  sister.  Ostensibly  it  was  to  confer  with 
him  as  to  his  "last  wishes,"  for,  in  the  absence  of  in 
structions  to  the  contrary,  Van  Duzen  had  announced 
that  on  the  following  day  at  sunset  he  must  pay  the 
penalty  of  his  crime  against  the  laws  of  war.  In  reality 
it  was  to  comfort  him  and  her  with  details  of  the  rap 
idly  growing  sentiment  in  the  entire  command  against 
his  being  regarded  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  an 
ordinary  prisoner  of  war.  Westerlo  had  taken  pains 
to  tell  all  over  camp  the  story  of  Judge  Armistead's 
possibly  fatal  illness,  and  the  gallant  effort  made  by 
his  son  to  see  him  just  once  more.  So,  too,  he  had 
told  how  they  had  shielded  and  succored  Major  Kear 
ny,  and  the  stories  grew  as  they  went  from  man  to 
man.  By  noon  that  day  "the  Reb"  was  decidedly- 
more  popular  in  that  particular  camp  than  its  com 
manding  officer,  and  there  was  talk  of  starting  a 
"  round-robin "  petition  in  behalf  of  the  former. 
Then,  too,  at  any  moment  now  despatches  might 
come  from  Colonel  Graham  or  from  Washington 
setting  Van  Duzen's  edict  aside.  Kearny  had  long 
since  sent  a  mounted  man  over  to  the  military  tele 
graph  station  with  additional  despatches  and  with  or- 


254  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

ders  to  wait  for  replies,  and  he  and  Westerlo  were  in  a 
feverish  state  of  anxiety.  Armistead  alone  was  calm 
and  composed. 

At  last  it  was  time  for  her  to  go,  for  she  felt  that 
she  must  be  with  her  father  overnight.  Wise,  of 
course,  had  turned  back  one  of  his  troopers  at  Hope- 
ville  to  tell  the  doctor  of  the  reprieve,  but  she  well 
knew  the  dread  anxiety  night  would  bring  to  the  fail 
ing  old  man.  The  officer  of  the  guard  and  a  sentry, 
as  required  by  their  orders,  still  stood  at  the  open 
doorway  of  the  prison-room,  but  the  two  field-officers 
withdrew  that  the  brother  and  sister  might  have  a  few 
moments  of  whispered  confidences.  Her  horse  had 
been  resaddled,  and  now,  with  those  of  Captain  Wise 
and  his  orderly,  was  in  readiness  outside.  Kearny's, 
too,  was  being  led  up  and  down  in  front  of  Westerlo's 
tent  a  short  distance  away.  He  had  determined,  despite 
his  fatigue,  to  ride  to  Hopeville  and  spend  the  night  at 
Wise's  camp.  It  was  a  desire  to  see  Judge  Armistead 
once  more,  and  strive  to  be  of  service  to  him,  that 
would  excuse  this  uninvited  visit;  but  he  longed  inex 
pressibly  for  a  few  words  with  her.  This  was  no  time, 
he  knew,  to  seek  to  undo  her  determination  or  to  strive 
to  discover  whether  her  heart  as  well  as  her  hand  was 
pledged  to  this  unknown  rival.  He  had  been  strange 
ly  moved  by  what  Westerlo  let  fall  concerning  Fal 
coner.  It  was  not  possible  that  she,  an  Armistead, 
could  deeply  love  a  man  whose  courage  was  ques 
tioned,  and  whose  name  was  mentioned  with  covert 
sneer.  These  w^ere  matters  on  which  he  could  not 
speak  to  her,  and  yet  what  man  who  loved  as  he  loved 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  255 

would  abandon  hope  so  long  as  there  was  left  one 
tendril  on  which  to  cling? 

And  now  'twas  full  time  they  started,  and  old  Wes- 
terlo  had  tiptoed  into  the  dark  hallway  and  tapped  at 
the  casing  of  the  open  door.  None  but  he  saw  that 
parting.  It  was  still  some  minutes  before  he  could 
lead  her  away,  and  then,  with  bowed  head  and  hidden 
face  and  faltering  step,  she  came  forth  leaning  on  his 
strong  arm.  A  group  of  a  dozen  officers  stood  not 
far  away.  Beyond  them  had  gathered  a  number  of 
the  men;  all  curious,  perhaps,  but  all  silent  and  sym 
pathetic.  Some  one  of  the  former  removed  his  forage 
cap,  and  in  a  moment  every  man  in  both  groups  stood 
uncovered.  This  was  the  Virginia  girl  who  had  saved 
Major  Kearny's  life:  It  was  reason  enough. 

Westerlo  lifted  her  into  the  saddle.  Wise  reined 
up  on  the  other  side.  Kearny  could  be  seen  swing 
ing  astride  his  horse  over  at  camp,  and  she  was  bend 
ing  down  saying  a  few  words  of  thanks  and  tearful 
farewell  to  her  stanch  old  friend,  when  there  was  a 
buzz  of  voices  out  towards  the  Thoroughfare  road  and 
the  clatter  of  galloping  hoofs.  Kearny  came  trotting 
eagerly  down  to  meet  the  arriving  messenger,  who  sud 
denly  darted  into  sight  around  a  neighboring  building 
and  almost  rode  over  the  major  before  he  could  check 
his  steed. 

A  joyous  light  flashed  over  the  Jersey-man's  face  as 
he  read  the  brief  words  of  the  despatch  thrust  into  his 
hand,  followed  by  a  shade  of  disappointment.  Quick 
ly  he  rode  to  her  side,  and  without  a  word  handed  her 
the  paper.  This  was  what  she  read — she  cared  noth- 


256  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

ing  for  the  address  or  signature — she  knew  it  must  be 
true: 

"  Orders  by  telegraph  direct  Colonel  Van  Duzen  to 
place  the  prisoner  Armistead  under  your  charge.  You, 
with  sufficient  escort,  to  bring  him  at  once  to  Wash 
ington." 


XXY. 

MARCH  and  April  have  gone.  So  has  Van  Duzen's 
camp  at  White  Plains.  Stirring  times  have  those  cav 
alrymen  been  having  on  both  sides  of  the  Bull  Run 
range,  but  little  of  it,  outside  of  "  Old  Van's  "  Congres 
sional  district,  did  the  people  hear.  Matters  of  far 
graver  moment  have  been  occurring  farther  south  along 
the  Rappahannock.  Chancellorsville  has  been  turned 
and  lost.  Stonewall  Jackson  has  made  his  last  tri 
umphant  attack  in  flank,  and  has  led  his  enthusiastic 
Virginians  for  the  last  time.  May  has  brought  sun 
shine  and  cloudless  skies  and  soft  and  perfumed 
breezes  to  the  once  lovely  valley  in  front  of  Hope- 
ville  Gap,  but  the  roads  are  all  dusty  again  with  the 
tramping  hoofs'  of  scouting  dragoons,  and  all  is  wild 
excitement  and  whispered  confidences  among  the  peo 
ple  who  still  occupy  the  homes  and  cottages  of  War- 
renton  and  the  villages  to  the  north.  June  is  here  be 
fore  we  realize  it  in  the  whirl  of  hurried  raid  and  rapid 
marching,  and  the  war-clouds  are  sweeping  up  the  Rap 
pahannock,  up  the  Hedgman  River,  and  those  tireless 
horsemen  of  Stuart  lead  the  van  and  clear  the  way. 
Two  strong  divisions  of  blue  jackets — our  old  friends 

of  the New  Jersey  among  them — cross  the  stream 

and  boldly  grapple  the  advancing  columns,  and  at  Bev- 
17 


258  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

erly  Ford  and  Brandy  Station  the  troopers  of  the 
North  and  South  clash  in  the  first  real  cavalry  battle 
of  the  war.  But  within  another  week  the  dingy  gray 
jackets  and  plumed  felt  hats  are  riding  jauntily  as 
ever  up  towards  Luray,  and  through  every  pass,  one 
after  another,  the  Union  horse  dash  in  to  the  attack. 
And  still  they  stay  not,  With  the  end  of  the  second 
week  in  June  Lee's  advance  is  far  down  the  Shenan- 
doah,  and  miles  and  miles  ahead  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  on  a  race  for  the  North.  Another  week, 
and  as  the  Union  columns  pass  over  the  well-known 
fields  of  the  old  battles,  and  trudge  on  up  to  Edwards 
Ferry,  what  should  that  bold  raider  Stuart  do  but 
double  on  his  tracks,  come  back  down  the  Luray  Val 
ley,  camp  once  again  around  Salem  and  White  Plains, 
and  then,  cutting  loose  from  the  entire  army  of  his 
commander,  circle  completely  around  the  rear  of 
Hooker's  marching  columns,  cutting  off  trains  and 
stragglers  at  will,  cross  the  broad  river  between 
Washington  and  its  defenders,  and  then  go  galloping 
straight  away  for  the  Susquehanna.  No  wonder  our 
Union  dragoons  are  kept  "  on  the  jump."  No  wonder 
Major  Kearny  finds  his  hands  full  in  handling  his  new 
battalion.  No  wonder  his  heart  turns  with  longing 
and  anxiety  to  the  old  homestead  at  Hopeville  Gap, 
and  he  prays  for  opportunity  to  ride  over  thither 
and  satisfy  himself  as  to  Lucy's  safety.  He  has  not 
seen  her;  he  has  not  heard  one  word  from  her  since  the 
night  she  left  Van  Duzen's  camp  to  return  to  her  fa 
ther's  bedside,  while  her  brother  remained — his  pris 
oner. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  259 

He  had  faithfully  carried  out  the  instructions  most 
reluctantly  transmitted  to  him  late  that  night  by  the 
irate  and  disappointed  colonel.  With  an  escort  of  a 
dozen  troopers  he  had  conveyed  his  friend  and  cap 
tive  to  the  provost  marshal's  office  at  the  capital.  He 
had  had  one  long  talk  with  him  on  the  way,  but  not  an 
entirely  satisfactory  one.  There  was  an  odd  constraint 
in  Armistead's  manner  which  Kenrny  could  not  un 
derstand  or  account  for,  and  which  the  former  did  not 
see  fit  to  explain.  They  parted  in  Washington  with 
out  removal  of  the  veil,  and  the  major  went  back  to 
his  regiment  sad  at  heart  and  more  restless  than  ever. 

One  thing,  however,  he  accomplished  as  a  religious 
duty.  He  lost  no  time  in  acquainting  the  authorities 
with  Armistead's  story,  and  in  reminding  them  it  was 
to  his  people  he  owed  his  life.  He  found  where  Armis- 
tead  was  to  be  confined,  and  wrote  to  his  mother  and 
other  relatives  in  New  Jersey,  enjoining  upon  them 
that  they  should  do  everything  in  their  power  to  re 
pay  through  him  the  obligation  owed  to  the  Armis- 
tead  family.  The  authorities  offered  to  release  the 
captain  on  parole,  and  the  captain  refused  it.  All  he 
asked  was  that  they  should  exchange  him  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  permit  him  to  rejoin  his  squadron  under 
Stuart.  Kearny  rode  back  to  Virginia,  and  was  pres 
ently  hurried  out  to  the  front  and  heard  no  more  of 
his  prisoner  for  many  a  long  day  ;  when  he  did,  it  was 
to  be  informed  in  several  letters  that  came  all  at  once 
that  Captain  Armistead  had  fretted  himself  into  a 
fever;  that  he  had  been  and  still  was  seriously  ill; 
that  in  his  helpless  condition  the  rules  had  been  re- 


260  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

laxed,  and  Mrs.  Kearny  and  others  had  been  permitted 
to  have  almost  exclusive  care  of  him  in  a  comfortable 
room  set  apart  for  the  purpose,  and  that  he  was  now 
on  the  mend.  About  the  week  before  he  rode  into  the 
charge  at  Brandy  Station,  Major  Kearny  had  other 
letters.  Armistead  had  almost  regained  his  strength 
after  a  long  convalescence;  and,  "I  once  thought, 
Frank,"  wrote  his  mother,  "  that  something  more  than 
a  school-boy-and-girl  affair  was  going  to  be  the  result 
of  your  long  association  with  Kate  Paulding.  Indeed, 
I  was  almost  certain  she  thought  so  too,  but  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  the  present  state  of  affairs  is  a  puz 
zle  to  me.  For  the  first  month  of  his  incarceration 
she  seemed  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  going  to  see 
him  with  me  or  with  your  sisters.  Now  the  days  are 
few  that  do  not  find  her  ready  to  go  and  read  to  him 
by  the  hour." 

It  was  a  piece  of  information  at  which  Kearny 
smiled. 

But  early  in  June  there  came  a  time  when  once 
again  the  fortunes  of  war  seemed  bearing  him  towards 
Hopeville.  Despite  the  desperate  fighting  at  Beverly 
Ford,  Stuart  had  pushed  on  northward,  using  the  Bull 
Run  Mountains  for  his  screen,  and  Kearny,  with  his 
battalion,  had  been  held  guarding  the  trains  of  the  ad 
vancing  Army  of  the  Potomac.  How  he  prayed  for 
release  from  this  humdrum  duty,  and  longed  to  be 
with  Gregg  and  Buford  and  Mclntosh  in  the  columns 
that  had  dashed  off  northward,  along  the  familiar  old 
range,  in  pursuit  of  the  wily  raider  !  Twice  in  person 
and  several  times  in  hurried  letters  he  appealed  for  re- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  261 

lief,  and  begged  to  be  sent  on  to  join  the  other  com 
mand,  but  it  was  useless.  His  new  regiment  was  com 
paratively  undrilled,  uninstructed,  and  the  men  had  not 
shown  the  steadiness  and  cohesion  of  the  older  troops  in 
the  one  day  of  desperate  hand-to-hand  fighting.  The 
general  decreed  that  they  with  others  in  like  predica 
ment  must  stay  and  guard  the  trains,  and  Kearny  per 
force  had  to  stay  with  them.  Time  and  again  he  wished 
himself  back,  a  troop  or  squadron  leader  in  the  old  regi 
ment,  but  'twas  too  late.  Not  until  towards  the  20th 
of  the  beautiful  month  of  June  did  he  find  his  white- 
topped  charges  slowly  crawling  into  view  of  the  Bull 
Run  range,  and  one  day  he  wrung  reluctant  permis 
sion  from  his  senior  to  take  half  a  dozen  men  and  ride 
over  towards  the  gaps  to  inquire  for  his  friends.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  trotted  through  the 
well-remembered  hamlet  of  Gainesville,  and  out  on 
the  Thoroughfare  Pike.  It  was  nearly  sunset  when 
he  reached  the  Aldie  road,  and  soon  was  plunged  in 
the  shadows  of  the  heavily  timbered  range.  It  was 
twilight,  and  still  as  the  grave,  when  he  came  in  sight 
of  Hopeville  Gap  and  the  dim  cross-country  trail  to 
Sudley  Springs.  Far  to  the  east  the  heights  of  Cen- 
treville  were  still  bathed  in  rosy  light,  and  the  white 
walls  gleamed  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  invisible 
to  him  by  reason  of  the  barrier  at  the  west.  He 
remembered  how  Lucy's  big  Newfoundland  used  to 
trot  out  on  the  red  road  in  front  of  the  hedge,  and 
challenge  with  deep-mouthed  bark  at  the  sound  of 
advancing  hoof -beats;  but  here  he  was  in  sight  of 
the  orchard  and  the  heavy  foliage  of  the  old  trees 


262  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

about  the  house.  Behind  him  his  men  were  chatting 
and  laughing  as  they  rode  at  ease,  and  still  no  sound 
of  life  came  from  the  homestead.  Something  like  a 
chill  seemed  to  strike  home  to  his  heart;  something 
like  dread  presentiment  overcame  him.  Unable  to 
bear  the  suspense,  he  spurred  rapidly  forward,  and  in 
another  moment  was  at  the  gateway,  gazing  with 
straining  eyes  and  choking  breath  upon  a  scene  of 
desolation. 

There  was  the  old  piazza;  there  the  tall  brick  chim 
ney,  still  proof  against  wind  or  weather.  There  were 
the  broad  steps  and  the  dingy  white  urns  and  the 
little  squat  pilasters  of  the  blackened  balustrade,  but 
all  else  was  a  gaping  ruin.  The  dear  old  homestead 
was  gone. 

For  some  moments  the  shock  well-nigh  unmanned 
him,  but  the  presence  of  his  escort,  chatting  in  low 
tones,  and  speculating  as  to  how  and  when  and  why 
this  destruction  had  occurred,  restored  him  to  himself. 
Riding  in  on  the  ruined  drive,  he  dismounted  ;  sent  a 
small  party  of  his  men  up  the  pass  to  watch  for  pos 
sible  raiders  from  the  western  side  of  the  range,  where 
Stuart  was  known  to  be  in  force,  and  then  began  a 
sad  search  for  anything  that  might  give  a  clew  to  the 
mystery.  When  could  this  have  happened?  How 
did  it  take  place  ?  What  had  become  of  her  and  her 
father  ?  These  were  the  questions  that  were  upper 
most  in  his  mind. 

The  roof  of  the  old  portico  was  gone  with  the  rest 
of  the  house,  but  the  floor  and  the  big  white  columns 
still  stood.  They  were  protected  by  the  stone  wall 


BETWEEN  THE    LINES.  263 

which  formed  the  basement,  though  the  columns  were 
charred  and  blistered  on  the  inner  side.  Within  the 
rectangle  formed  by  these  stone  basement  walls  was 
one  yawning  pit  half  filled  with  heaped  and  blackened 
timbers.  Over  in  the  northwest  corner  where  was 
Aunt  Bell's  domain — the  kitchen — were  the  remains 
of  the  big  stove  which  she  was  wont  to  keep  in  such 
glistening  coat  of  polish.  Beyond  that  the  trellis-work 
and  the  low  fruit-trees  among  which  the  sentry  paced 
the  night  old  Nelse  found  him  "  so  busy  "  he  "  didn't 
like  to  disturb  him  "  and  so  slipped  out  unseen.  Be 
yond  these  the  now  abandoned  henhouse  and  the 
gaping  doorways  of  the  old  barn;  but  nowhere  was 
there  sign  of  life  of  any  kind.  Busy,  scratching  hens, 
neighing  steeds,  lounging  troopers,  watchful  old  house 
dog,  Nelse  with  his  limping  gait,  Aunt  Bell  with  her 
cheery  black  face,  Hannah  with  her  alert,  intelligent, 
eager  eyes;  the  patient,  sad- featured  old  father — all 
were  gone,  and  with  them  the  girl  he  so  fondly  and 
faithfully  loved. 

Late  that  evening,  heart-sick,  and  weighed  down 
with  anxiety,  he  was  pushing  eastward  again  to  restore 
his  escort  to  the  command.  With  Stuart's  troopers 
just  across  the  range  and  likely  to  come  through  at 
any  moment,  it  was  no  place  to  spend  the  night. 
Alone,  he  would  gladly  have  remained  until  some 
tidings  could  be  gained,  but  he  was  responsible  for 
the  safety  of  his  little  party,  and  stern  duty  demanded 
his  prompt  return.  With  an  entire  army  straining 
every  nerve  to  reach  the  Potomac  and  oheck  a  dan 
gerous  invasion,  it  was  indeed 


264  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

"  No  time  for  love  or  sighing," 
and  though  it  well-nigh  tore  his  heart,  he  had  to 

go- 
Splashing  through  the  shallow  waters  of  the  Cathar- 

pin,  his  escort  aroused  some  sleepy  watchers  on  the 
eastern  bank,  and  sharp  challenge  greeted  him.  A 
patrol  thrown  out  along  the  left  flank  of  the  army  had 
halted  for  the  double  purpose  of  resting  their  horses 
and  guarding  the  road  to  the  Gap.  The  men  were 
springing  to  horse  as  Kearny  answered,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  could  persuade  their  commander  that 
he  and  his  were  friends.  A  moment's  parley,  however, 
satisfied  them  as  to  his  identity,  and  then  the  two  offi 
cers  dismounted  for  brief  consultation. 

"  We  were  going  to  venture  out  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  go  as  far  as  the  Armistead  place  in  the  Gap," 
said  the  lieutenant,  presently,  "but  some  negroes  in 
an  old  cabin  here  told  us  it  was  burned  down  six  weeks 
ago." 

"  Where  are  they  ?"  asked  Kearny,  with  sudden 
interest. 

"  Just  in  the  woods  there  at  the  edge  of  the  clear 
ing.  One  of  them  lived  at  the  place." 

A  dim  light  was  burning  in  among  the  trees.  Thith 
er  strode  the  major,  his  heart  thumping  in  his  breast. 
In  answer  to  his  resounding  knock  the.  door  was  slowly 
opened,  and  a  venerable  kinky  head  peered  forth. 

"  Kelse  !  old  man  !  Don't  you  know  me  ?"  was  the 
instant  exclamation. 

"  Oh,  my  lawd  !  Mars'r  Kearny  !"  cried  the  negro, 
in  reply,  and  then  tears  and  sobs  choked  his  utterance. 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES,  265 

The  poor  old  fellow  broke  completely  down,  and,  cling 
ing  to  Kearny's  outstretched  hand,  wept  like  a  little 
child. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  tell  his  sad  story. 
Dr.  Loring  had  been  restored  to  his  friends  and  pa 
tients  soon  after  Colonel  Graham  returned  and  relieved 
Van  Duzen,  but  he  came  too  late.  Day  by  day  the 
judge  seemed  to  sink  lower  and  lower.  The  cavalry 
were  withdrawn,  falling  back  to  Fairfax  again,  and 
the  Rangers  reappeared.  Even  the  sight  of  the  Con 
federate  gray  failed  to  rally  the  broken  old  man,  and 
one  stormy  night,  just  before  they  heard  the  news  of 
Chancellorsville,  he  passed  quietly  away.  They  buried 
him  in  the  little  church-yard  down  at  -Warren ton  by. 
the  side  of  his  wife,  and  thither  Dr.  Loring  had  escorted 
Lucy  and  Hannah,  leaving  old  Nelse  with  Aunt  Bell 
to  take  care  of  the  homestead.  One  night,  soon  after 
they  took  the  judge's  remains  away,  there  came  a  dozen 
men  on  horseback.  Some  were  in  uniform,  some  were 
not,  and  they  ransacked  the  house  and  drank  up  all 
the  store  of  "apple-jack"  that  was  left,  and  drove 
him  and  Aunt  Bell  out  into  the  fields,  and  swore  it 
was  the  last  time  that  place  should  ever  shelter  a  Yan 
kee,  and  then  they  burned  it  to  the  ground.  Did  he 
know  where  Miss  Lucy  was  now  ?  No,  only  that  she 
was  with  Dr.  Loring's  family  either  at  Warrenton  or 
perhaps  Salem  again.  Did  he  know  any  of  the  men 
who  fired  the  house  ?  Only  one  of  them — the  gentle 
man  that  came  to  see  the  major  with  the  officers  once 
— Mars'r  Tierney. 


XXVI. 

"  No  time  for  love  or  sighing,"  indeed  !  "  On  to 
the  Potomac  !"  "  On  to  threatened  Pennsylvania  !" 
were  the  watchwords.  Though  his  sore  heart  clung 
to  Virginia,  duty  and  honor  called  Frank  Kearny  to 
his  post  in  the  marching  column.  There  was  only 
time  to  sit  him  down  by  the  flickering  light  of  the 
camp-fire,  and  on  scraps  torn  from  his  pocket-diary 
to  write  her  a  hurried  letter  full  of  sympathy,  sorrow, 
and  wordless  devotion.  Of  his  love  and  constancy  he 
made  no  mention,  but  no  woman  could  fail  to  read 
their  presence  in  every  line.  Thrusting  in  old  Nelse's 
brown  palm  a  roll  of  treasury  notes,  at  sight  of  which 
the  eyes  of  the  recipient  nearly  bulged  from  their 
sockets,  Kearny  bade  the  negro  reward  his  fellows  for 
the  shelter  they  had  afforded  Aunt  Bell  and  himself, 
to  keep  the  bulk  of  the  money  for  his  support  and 
hers  until  the  major  should  come  again,  but  to  fail  not 
in  setting  forth  with  the  rising  sun  and  to  bear  that 
letter  to  Miss  Armistead,  even  if  he  had  to  follow  her 
to  Richmond  ;  and  Nelse  promised  faithfully  to  obey. 
Then,  measurably  comforted,  Kearny  roused  his  sleepy 
escort,  and,  bidding  good-night  to  the  officer  com 
manding  the  patrol,  rode  away  eastward  in  search  of 
his  trains. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  267 

Who  has  forgotten  the  days  that  followed  —  the 
breathless  hush  of  anxiety  and  suspense,  the  rueful 
stories  of  invasion  and  disaster,  the  loud  alarum  in 
the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna,  the  thrill  of  dread  in 
Washington  and  Philadelphia,  the  excitement  and  al 
most  defiant  rejoicing  in  Baltimore,  the  flaming  skies 
above  Columbia  and  Carlisle,  the  plumed  squadrons 
of  Stuart's  raiders  whisking  past  the  outlying  pickets 
of  the  national  capital,  sabring  their  way  into  the  thick 
of  the  Union  trains,  and  then  trotting  jauntily  through 
the  very  streets  of  York,  the  dusty  skirmishers  of  grim 
old  one-legged  Ewell  scaring  the  whole  country-side 
into  refuge  at  Harrisburg  ?  All  over  the  astonished 
North  consternation  and  dismay.  All  through  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  the  thrilling  sense  that  now  at 
last  their  turn  had  come  ;  that  now,  at  least,  it  must 
be  do  or  die. 

Far  in  rear  of  the  marching  columns  when  he  reached 
the  Potomac,  still  chained  to  the  hateful  task  of  guard 
ing  trains,  Major  Kearny  heard  with  eager  delight 
that  a  sudden  change  had  been  effected  in  the  organi 
zation  of  the  cavalry.  A  foreign  officer  who  had  long 
commanded  the  scattered  division  to  which  he  belonged 
had  been  relieved  at  Frederick,  a  new  leader  placed 
at  its  head  ;  and  now,  under  men  like  Buford,  Gregg, 
Merritt,  Ouster,  and  Farnsworth,  the  troopers  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  in  three  strong  divisions,  were 
scouring  the  country  in  front  of  the  trudging  infantry. 
Beyond  question  they  would  be  the  first  to  grapple 
with  the  foe,  and  Kearny  was  about  the  last  man  in 
the  array  who  could  rest  content  with  the  duty  as- 


268  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

signed  him.  No  sooner  was  he  north  of  the  stream 
than  he  intrusted  to  the  care  of  a  staff-officer  hurrying 
to  the  front  an  earnest  appeal  to  the  commander  of 
the  cavalry  corps  to  be  allowed  to  come  forward  in 
any  capacity  whatever,  and  in  a  few  days  the  wel 
come  order  reached  him,  "  Report  for  immediate  duty 
to  the  general  commanding  the  second  cavalry  division 
now  marching  on  Hanover."  With  eagerness  unspeak 
able  he  turned  over  his  battalion  to  the  senior  captain, 
and  pushed  on  that  very  night. 

And  so  it  happened  that  once  again  he  greeted  his 
comrades  of  the  old  regiment.  He  found  them  hag 
gard,  dusty,  worn  with  ceaseless  marching  and  sleep 
less  nights,  cruelly  thinned  in  numbers,  but  "still 
there,"  and  Dayton  with  them.  There,  too,  grimy 
with  dust,  like  their  comrades,  was  the  regiment  in 
which  Mullane  had  lived  his  brief  and  inglorious  year ; 
but  with  him  had  disappeared  the  faction  of  which  he 
was  the  acknowledged  leader  and  exponent.  A  dozen 
officers  from  its  ranks  spurred  forward  to  greet  and 
welcome  the  new-comer  who  sat  in  saddle  in  rear  of 
the  long  skirmish  line  of  dismounted  Jerseymen,  shak 
ing  hands  with  captains  and  lieutenants  by  the  dozen. 
The  whole  brigade  seemed  to  feel  that  it  must  do  its 
best  to  show  Major  Kearny  the  pleasure  his  coming 
afforded  every  man.  They  all  knew  how  he  had  never 
ceased  his  importunities  to  be  sent  to  the  front  until 
the  order  was  granted,  and  here  he  was  just  in  time 
for  Gettysburg. 

Two  anxious  days  had  passed  since  Buford,  far  over 
on  the  left,  had  discovered  the  advancing  infantry  of 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  269 

Pettigrew  and  Archer,  and,  true  to  his  instincts,  had 
rushed  straight  at  the  throat  of  his  foe  and  striven 
to  hold  and  pin  him  there,  west  of  the  Lutheran 
Seminary,  until  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  could 
come  up  and  man  that  priceless  ridge  below  the 
quaint  old  Pennsylvania  town.  Now  the  morning  of 
the  3d  had  come — the  climax  of  it  all.  In  vain  had 
Ewell  forced  his  columns — Jackson's  old  men — to  the 
assault  of  the  bowlder-strewn  slopes  of  Gulp's  Hill. 
In  vain  had  Hood's  Texans  hurled  their  charging  lines 
on  the  Round  Tops  at  the  southern  flank.  The  Union 
ranks  had  reeled  and  staggered  under  the  repeated  on 
sets  ;  the  Union  colors  had  been  steadily  beaten  back 
from  the  Pike  and  that  famous  peach-orchard  at  the 
angle  of  Sickles's  front ;  but  all  the  crest  of  Cemetery 
Ridge  was  crowned  with  black-mouthed  batteries  and 
panting  but  determined  battalions  in  the  grimy  blue  ; 
all  the  curving,  wooded  slopes  at  the  north  were 
watched  by  keen -eyed  Northern  riflemen;  all  the 
broad  plateau  to  the  eastward,  far  over  as  Westmin 
ster,  was  powdered  with  the  dust  of  tramping  columns, 
and  glistening  with  sunshine  reflected  from  the  canvas 
covers  of  countless  wagons.  Here,  too,  were  parked 
the  reserve  batteries  ;  here,  too,  the  ammunition  trains 
and  the  scores  -of  ambulances  ;  and  all  the  beautiful 
undulating,  fertile  farm-land  between  them  and  the 
north  lay  open  to  the  advance  of  hostile  cavalry  but 
for  the  covering  skirmish  lines  of  the  Second  Division  ; 

and  of  these  the  old New  Jersey  was  farthest  to 

the  front,  crouching  along  the  rail-fence  by  the  road 
side  and  watching  with  eager  eyes  the  fringe  of  wood 


270  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

on  yonder  opposite  slope.  "  Stuart  is  back  !"  "  Stu 
art  has  rejoined  Lee  !"  These  were  the  words  that 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  that  gorgeous  July  morn 
ing.  Now  look  out  for  squalls  !  Just  at  noon,  when 
men  and  horses  were  gazing  longingly  at  the  forest 
shades  along  the  ridges,  and  seeking  shelter  from  the 
fierce  rays  of  the  July  sun,  there  came  the  staff-officer 
galloping  over  from  Meade's  headquarters  with  the 
stirring  message,  "  Look  well  to  your  front !  Howard 
reports  that  he  can  see  from  Cemetery  Hill  great 
masses  of  cavalry  marching  out  north  of  you.  They 
must  be  forming  behind  those  ridges  now." 

All  the  long,  hot  morning  has  been  spent  in  com 
parative  quiet.  Ouster  and  his  "  Wolverines  "  have 
scouted  all  the  roads  for  a  mile  or  more  above  the 
Hanover  Pike.  There  are  skirmishers  in  gray  out 
beyond  Wolf  Hill,  where  Mclntosh  and  his  dragoons 
joined  the  extreme  right  of  Howard's  corps.  There 
are  little  scouting  parties  of  Confederate  horse  twink 
ling  through  the  woods  and  farm  enclosures  up  tow 
ards  the  York  road.  But  just  at  one  o'clock  Custer 
with  his  fine  brigade  has  started  away  under  orders 
to  march  to  the  Round  Tops  across  that  intervening 
plateau  whereon  are  all  those  dust -covered  reserve 
batteries,  ammunition  wagons,  and  trains.  He  moves 
reluctantly,  and  with  a  shake  of  his  curly  head  and  a 
lingering  glance  over  his  shoulder  at  the  wooded  crest 
behind  those  substantial  farm-buildings  a  mile  away 
northward  across  the  open  fields.  "  You  may  be  at 
tacked  any  minute,"  he  says  to  the  brigade  com 
mander.  "  Those  woods  are  full  of  'em  by  this  time." 


BETWEEN    THE   LINES.  271 

And  now,  just  as  Kearny  is  shaking  bands  with  his 
comrades,  there  bursts  upon  the  startled  ear  the  roar 
of  the  fierce  cannonade  that  ushers  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  3d  of  July — a  roar  that  speedily  swells  into  the 
deafening  thunder  of  the  most  stupendous  duel  of 
batteries  ever  heard  on  this  continent.  It  is  the  two 
hours'  prelude  to  Pickett's  memorable  and  heroic  as 
sault,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  cavalry  out  on  the  dis 
tant  flank  can  only  look  on  and  listen,  awed  by  the 
magnificence  of  the  sight  and  sound.  The  western 
edge  of  the  plateau,  three  miles  or  more  away,  is  pres 
ently  shrouded  in  a  cloud  of  sulphur  smoke  which,  per 
petually  being  rent  and  torn  by  flashing  shells,  closes 
promptly  over  the  gaps  and  only  gains  in  density. 
Then  comes  the  call  to  action  on  the  right.  "Skir 
mishers  forward !"  ring  the  trumpets,  and  Dayton  clasps 
for  an  instant  Kearny's  hand,  then  draws  his  sabre  and 
gallops  over  to  his  advancing  squadron.  The  briga 
dier  has  determined  not  to  await  attack,  but  to  see  for 
himself  what  is  to  be  found  along  those  forest-fringed 
heights  across  the  level  field.  Whoever  occupies  them 
commands  a  view  of  the  country  for  miles  to  the  south 
and  takes  "  in  reverse  "  the  line  of  battle  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  and  its  parks  of  reserve  batteries  and 
supplies.  What  if  Stuart  should  already  be  there? 
What  if  even  now,  screened  by  those  woods,  he  is 
forming  his  charging  columns  and  preparing  to  come 
sweeping  down  on  these  slender  lines,  brush  them  to 
either  side,  and  then  go  careering  madly  on,  playing 
havoc  among  those  defenceless  trains  ?  Who  can 
doubt  the  effect  of  such  a  dash  when  coupled  with  the 


272  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

grand  assault  now  beginning  from  the  west?  Who 
can  say  where  ruin  and  disaster  will  be  checked  should 
this  indeed  prove  to  be  his  plan  ? 

Kearny  has  ridden  back  towards  the  Pike  to  rejoin 
the  division  commander,  who  comes  spurring  up  with 
an  anxious  look  o'erspreading  his  soldierly,  bearded 
face.  Together  they  rein  in  on  a  little  knoll  at  the 
southeastern  angle.  Behind  them  in  the  highway  Pen- 
nington's  rifled  guns  are  still  unlimbered,  for  Ouster's 
column  is  not  yet  clear  of  the  field,  and  he  does  not 
move  until  his  cavalry  comrades  are  all  on  their  way. 
In  front  is  Chester's  section,  the  cannoneers  lying  or 
squatting  about  the  guns,  the  drivers  dismounted  and 
resting  near  their  drooping  horses.  To  the  left,  drawn 
up  in  close  column  of  squadrons,  are  battalions  of 
Union  horse  almost  grilling  under  the  blazing  sun 
shine  ;  but  the  eyes  of  all  men  follow  the  movements 
of  that  long  skirmish  line  swinging  boldly  out  across 
the  farm  fields  towards  those  solid-looking  buildings  of 
the  thriving  Pennsylvania  husbandman.  "  Rummel's 
barn  "  becomes  the  object  of  an  interest  it  never  knew 
before. 

Suddenly  up  from  the  earth  spring  the  men  at  the 
guns.  A  murmur  of  excitement  flies  along  the  mounted 
ranks.  "  Look  at  'em  !"  "  Yonder  they  come  !"  are 
the  cries,  and  all  in  an  instant,  out  from  behind  the 
farm  buildings,  out  from  the  big,  substantial  barn,  run 
ning  into  line,  agile  as  monkeys,  come  scores  of  skir 
mishers  in  gray  rushing  for  the  low  stone  wall.  In  an 
instant  both  lines  have  opened  fire,  and  the  cavalry 
combat  at  the  right  flank  has  begun. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  273 

"  Ha,  I  thought  so  !"  exclaims  the  general.  "  Look 
at  the  guns !  Stuart  himself,  as  a  matter  of  course." 
And  out  on  the  heights  in  the  rear  of  the  farm  build 
ings — those  coveted  heights  from  which  the  whole  field 
can  be  so  plainly  seen— two  horse  batteries  trot  briskly 
into  view  from  the  leafy  shelter  in  which  they  have 
been  lurking,  and  in  an  instant  are  whirling  around 
into  position.  Before  a  shot  can  be  rammed  home, 
Chester  and  Pennington  have  saluted  the  new-comers, 
and  with  spiteful  shriek  the  shells  go  whizzing  over 
the  heads  of  the  intervening  skirmishers,  and  the  bat 
teries  have  joined  in  the  general  uproar.  Just  about 
the  time  when  the  Union  guns  along  Cemetery  Ridge 
are  cooling  down  for  the  reception  of  the  assault  so 
surely  coming,  far  out  here  on  the  right  flank  their 
comrades  with  the  cavalry  brigades  have  taken  up  the 
chorus,  and  in  a  moment  every  gun  is  in  full  song. 
The  Rummel  barn  is  jetting  fire-flash  and  smoke ;  it 
is  packed  with  sharpshooters,  before  whose  sheltered 
aim  many  a  gallant  fellow  of  the  Jersey  regiment  is 
going  down.  Kearny  feels  a  sudden  sense  of  keen 
anxiety  for  Dayton,  and  longs  to  be  allowed  to  dash 
out  to  the  front,  but  his  general  knows  a  more  effective 
plan.  A  word  to  the  young  oificer  commanding  the 
advanced  guns  and  the  muzzles  are  depressed,  the  trails 
whipped  suddenly  to  a  slight  change  of  direction,  and 
in  the  next  instant  the  shells  are  bursting  under  the 
barn  roof  itself,  ripping  and  tearing  the  brittle  wood 
work,  firing  the  hay-stacks,  and  emptying  it  of  its  hu 
man  contents  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  whole 
brigade  sets  up  a  cheer  and  laugh  as  the  discomfited 
18 


274  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

sharpshooters  come  tumbling  out  and,  bending  almost 
double,  scurry  for  the  shelter  of  the  low  stone  wall. 
Another  and  a  louder  cheer  bursts  forth  when,  with  a 
blare  of  trumpets,  Ouster,  "ever  ready  for  a  fight," 
comes  galloping  back  at  the  head  of  his  gallant  Michi 
gan  brigade  and  ploys  his  excited  troopers  into  close 
column  of  squadrons,  ready  for  anything  as  their  sa 
bres  flash  in  air.  One  regiment  he  hurriedly  orders 
in  dismounted  to  cover  the  left  of  his  column ;  an 
other  to  aid  the  thinned  and  bleeding  rank  of  Jersey- 
men  ;  a  third,  in  saddle,  dashes  for  the  stone  wall 
along  the  little  stream  at  the  western  edge,  just  in 
time  to  meet  there  the  flower  of  Virginia's  cavalry 
and  be  borne  back  in  the  rush.  There  are  ten  minutes 
of  wild  excitement  and  stirring  battle-cries — ten  min 
utes  of  rally  and  countercharge,  in  which  the  Virgin 
ians  in  turn  are  outnumbered  and  hurled  back.  A 
brief  breathing-spell  for  the  horsemen  while  the  gun 
ners  concentrate  their  fire  on  the  batteries  on  the  Cress 
ridge,  and  then — then  comes  the  glorious  episode  of  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  day. 

Just  as  Pickett's  devoted  lines  are  breasting  the 
slopes  for  the  final  and  desperate  attempt  to  pierce 
the  Union  centre,  Cavalier  Stuart,  with  all  his  chiv 
alry  at  his  back — six  thousand  glittering  sabres  at  his 
beck  and  call — darts  in  to  carry  out  his  share  of  the 
well-planned  combination.  Watching  from  his  leafy 
covert  at  the  summit  back  of  Rummel's  house,  he  hears 
the  signal  guns  of  the  Washington  Artillery  far  across 
the  plateau  ;  he  notes  the  mass  of  trains  and  wagons 
down  towards  the  south,  shielded  only  by  that  thinned, 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  275 

and  travel -worn  division  drawn  up  in  front  of  the 
Hanover  Pike.  The  time  to  strike  has  come,  and,  like 
poised  falcon,  his  compact  columns  wait  ready  for  the 
swoop.  Behind  him,  in  the  open  fields  of  the  Stal- 
smith  farm,  are  the  brigades  of  Hampton  and  Fitz- 
Hugh  Lee.  ~No  leader  on  earth  need  seek  for  braver 
men  or  keener  riders.  There  they  sit  in  saddle,  eager 
for  the  word — eager  for  their  great  part  in  the  drama 
of  the  day — and  now  it  comes. 

Kearny  has  just  galloped  back  to  his  general's  side, 
his  eyes  flashing  with  excitement,  the  sweat  pouring 
down  from  his  forehead,  panting  with  his  exertions  in 
rallying  the  scattered  troopers  on  the  left.  Another 
regiment  of  the  Michigan  brigade  has  just  trotted  into 
close  column  under  Ouster's  eye.  The  Jerseymen  and 
Pennsylvanians  are  slowly  retiring,  with  emptied  car 
tridge-boxes,  to  where  their  horses  await  them  in  the 
woods  by  the  "  Low  Dutch  "  road  at  the  eastern  verge, 
leaving  the  "Wolverines"  to  oppose  the  gray  skir 
mishers  along  the  little  stream  and  among  the  farm 
buildings  at  RummePs,  when,  at  the  very  northern 
edge  of  the  open  fields — just  at  a  gap  in  the  forest- 
covered  ridge — there  rides  into  view  a  pageant  at  sight 
of  which  a  murmur  of  admiration  bursts  from  the  Un 
ion  ranks.  Sweeping  out  upon  the  gentle  slope,  with 
fluttering  guidons  and  waving  plumes  overhead,  with 
sabres  at  the  carry  glistening  in  the  unclouded  sun 
shine,  moving  with  stately  ease  and  deliberation,  form 
ing  squadron  front  as  soon  as  the  columns  clear  the 
gap  and  reach  the  broad  expanse  beyond,  then  clos 
ing  in  mass  as  they  steadily  advance,  side  by  side  come 


276  BETWEEN    THE   LINES. 

the  famous  troopers  of  Wade  Hampton  and  Fitz-Hugh 
Lee.  Here  are  the  men  who  have  borne  the  flags  of  * 
the  Carolinas  and  Virginia  to  the  very  borders  of  the 
Susquehanna,  and  made  them  famous  on  a  score  of 
fields.  Here  are  the  raiders  who  have  followed  Stu 
art  in  many  a  dash  around  our  jaded  flanks  and  rear. 
Watch  them  as  squadron  after  squadron  gains  its 
front  and  distance  at  the  trot.  Mark  the  steadiness 
and  precision  of  every  move.  Note  that  slow,  stately 
half -wheel  to  their  right  as  they  descend  the  slope. 
That  means  they  are  coming  square  at  Chester's  guns, 
now  just  one  mile  away. 

See  the  rush  and  scurry  among  the  dismounted  skir 
mishers  midway  up  the  field !  Out  of  the  way  with 
you,  lads  !  Run  for  your  horses,  every  man  of  you ! 
Never  heed  those  peppering  riflemen  in  the  barn-yard 
now.  Here  come  foemen  worthy  of  your  steel,  and  all 
the  Union  cavalry  is  athrill  with  excitement  and  en 
thusiasm.  "Mount !  mount !"  are  the  shouted  orders. 
"  Steady,  now,  men  !"  the  caution  from  many  a  squad 
ron  leader  as  the  very  horses  seem  to  plunge  and  tug 
at  the  bits  as  though  eager  for  the  fray.  Look  at  Cus- 
ter,  his  curls  floating  in  the  rising  breeze,  his  eyes  kin 
dling  like  coals  of  fire,  his  sinewy  hand  gripping  the 
sabre-hilt,  trotting  up  and  down  in  front  of  his  heart- 
throbbing  lines  giving  quick,  terse  words  of  instruc 
tion  and  warning.  Bang  !  bang  !  go  Chester's  guns, 
sending  their  whirring  compliments  to  the  massive 
gray  columns  still  placidly  advancing  at  the  walk  ;  and 
a  cheer  of  exultation,  not  unmingled  with  low  mur 
murs  of  soldierly  pity,  greets  the  sight  of  the  explod- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  277 

ing  shells  square  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful  division. 
But  not  one  whit  do  they  swerve  or  slacken.  On  still 
steadily  they  come,  and  now  the  field  in  front  is  cleared ; 
and  now  all  the  guns  are  hurling  shell  and  case-shot ; 
and  now  the  slow,  stately  advance  becomes  suddenly 
shimmering  and  tremulous  to  the  eye  ;  it  only  means 
that  the  pace  has  been  quickened  to  the  trot.  A  quar 
ter  mile  at  that  gait,  another  at  the  gallop,  and  they 
will  be  here. 

Now  for  our  side !  "  Meet  them,  Mclntosh  !  Meet 
them,  Ouster !"  are  the  general's  quick  orders  ;  "  but 
let  them  get  well  down  this  way.  Do  not  charge  un 
til  they  are  in  line  with  the  woods;  then  we've  got 
'em  on  both  flanks,  too."  Oapital  plan  that.  Lining 
the  fence  by  the  roadside  on  the  east  are  hundreds  of 
kneeling  troopers  ready  to  open  fire  as  the  columns 
come  sweeping  by.  Over  on  the  west  side,  too,  along 
the  little  run,  are  other  skirmishers  all  ready  for  the 
coming  host.  Possibly  Stuart  does  not  see  this — pos 
sibly  does  not  care.  Heedless  of  bursting  shell  and 
hissing  lead  ;  silent,  stern,  inflexible,  in  exquisite  order 
and  perfect  alignment,  the  Southern  horse  sweep  grand 
ly  down  the  field.  "  Keep  to  your  sabres,  men  !"  is 
the  order  passed  from  rank  to  rank.  Brandy  Station, 
Aldie,  and  Upperville  have  taught  them  the  lesson 
that  the  revolver  is  no  weapon  to  cope  with  the  blade 
wielded  by  brawny  Northern  arms.  On  they  come, 
the  ground  trembling  and  rumbling  under  the  quick 
ening  tread  of  these  thousands  of  hoofs.  Listen !  "  The 
gallop  !"  Now,  Michigan!  JVow,  New  York  and  Penn 
sylvania!  tighten  your  sabre-knots;  take  good  grip; 


278  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

touch  boot  to  the  centre;  keep  your  dress;  eyes  straight 
to  the  front,  &nd  forward J 

"  Major  Kearny,  gallop  round  to  the New  Jer 
sey.  Mount  every  man  you  can  find,  and  order  a  charge 
on  their  left  flank  the  instant  we  check  them  here ! 
Give  'em  canister  now,  Mr.  Chester  !"  These  are  the 
last  orders  Kearny  gets  from  his  general  this  day  of 
days.  Putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  he  darts  around  the 
rear  of  Chester's  guns  just  as  "  the  advance  "  is  ring 
ing  from  the  trumpets ;  clears  the  front  of  the  squad 
rons  issuing  from  the  woods  at  rapid  trot,  and,  glanc 
ing  over  his  shoulder,  sees  the  rush  of  the  "  Wolver 
ines  "  up  the  field ;  sees  Custer,  four  lengths  ahead, 
darting  straight  at  the  plunging  host  in  gray  ;  hears 
the  sudden  burst  of  terrific  yells  with  which  the  men 
of  Stuart  welcome  the  signal  "  Charge  !"  hears  the 
fearful  crash  with  which  the  heads  of  columns  come 
together ;  marks  the  sudden  silence  of  the  cannon, 
useless  now  when  friend  and  foe  are  mingled  in 
death-grapple  at  the  front,  and  with  a  din  of  savage 
war-cries,  orders,  shouts,  shots,  clashing  sabres,  and 
crunching  hoofs  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  speeds  on  his 
way  to  the  fence  and  the  wood  road,  wild  with  eager 
ness  to  rally  his  old  comrades  and  lead  them  in. 

Back  among  the  trees  to  the  right,  whither  the  led 
horses  had  been  conducted  out  of  range, "  there  is  mount 
ing  in  hot  haste,"  and  thither  gallops  the  young  major, 
flashing  his  sabre  in  air,  and  calling  to  his  old  com 
rades  to  form  their  line.  Rapidly  he  rides  along  the 
fence.  "  Mount,  men,  mount !  Quick,  Dayton  !  Quick, 
Hart !"  he  shouts.  "  Form  your  men,  and  get  in  here 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  279 

on  the  edge  of  the  field  !"  But  all  along  that  fragile 
barrier  are  scores  of  troopers,  kneeling  or  lying  prone, 
blazing  away  at  the  dense,  dust-covered,  struggling 
mass  of  gray  horsemen  only  three  hundred  yards  away; 
and  in  the  thunderous  din  no  voice  is  audible  beyond 
a  rod  or  two.  Dayton  spurs  up  and  down  in  the  road 
way  until  he  has  driven  a  dozen  men  back  in  search 
of  their  steeds.  Hart  gallops  southward  to  where  his 
squadron,  mounted,  is  guarding  the  led  horses  in  among 
the  trees.  Half  a  dozen  Pennsylvanians,  officers  and 
men,  come  trotting  up  to  Kearny,  eager  to  be  "  count 
ed  in  "  if  there  is  to  be  a  charge  ;  other  troopers  tear 
down  a  panel  or  two  of  fence,  that  the  forming  squad 
rons  may  get  in  from  the  dusty  road.  Out  in  the 
broad  fallow  field  the  uproar  of  the  fierce  combat 
swells  and  rages,  and  though  the  long,  compact  col 
umns  are  still  pushing  on,  the  headlong  speed  of  the 
charge  is  gone,  the  leading  squadrons  are  swallowed 
up  in  cheering  clouds  of  swordsmen  dressed  in  the 
Union  blue.  The  Southern  leaders  are  hewing  their 
way,  fighting  like  tigers  and  yelling  command  and 
encouragement  to  their  men,  but  those  "Wolverines" 
of  Custer  have  barred  the  path ;  scores  of  troopers 
from  all  over  the  field  are  bearing  down  on  front 
and  flanks  ;  Chester's  guns  have  torn  fearful  rents  in 
their  now  beleaguered  column  ;  hundreds  of  steeds  are 
rolling  in  agony  on  the  turf,  and  hundreds  of  riders 
are  bleeding  and  thrown.  Eager  troopers  dash  from 
their  places  in  the  rearward  lines  and  rush  yelling  to 
join  the  combat  at  the  front.  Hampton's  battle-flag 
is  waved  on  high  and  spurred  through  the  mass  of 


280  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

swaying  chargers  to  animate  the  Carolinians  to  renewed 
effort ;  but  it  is  all  practically  unavailing  ;  the  impe 
tus  of  the  attack  is  done,  and  now,  though  outnum 
bering  the  horsemen  swarming  upon  them  from  every 
side,  Lee  and  Hampton  are  almost  helpless.  Relying 
on  dash,  weight,  and  inertia  to  sweep  everything  be 
fore  them,  the  Southern  leaders  have  failed  to  provide 
for  just  this  possibility.  Now  their  gallant  men  are 
jammed  together  in  one  great,  surging  mass  ;  only 
those  on  the  flanks  or  front  can  use  sabre  or  pistol ; 
the  rest  are  useless  as  so  many  sheep.  In  vain  their 
officers  shout  hoarse  commands  to  open  out,  to  cut 
their  way  to  right  or  left.  From  east  and  west  every 
instant  fresh  parties  of  Union  horse  come  dashing  in 
with  new  shock  and  impetus,  hurling  men  from  the 
saddle,  adding  to  the  clamor  and  confusion,  utterly 
blocking  every  attempt  of  the  gray  troopers  to  wheel 
outward  and  hew  a  path  to  the  relief  of  their  strug 
gling  comrades  in  the  foremost  lines.  Kearny  notes 
it  all  with  mad  exultation  ;  Dayton's  half  -  score  of 
men  and  the  Pennsylvania  troopers  are  hurriedly 
ranging  themselves  in  rank,  when  through  the  dust- 
cloud  they  catch  sight  of  that  battle-flag  of  Hamp 
ton's  struggling  forward  in  the  midst  of  the  Confed 
erate  column.  "  There's  our  point !"  he  shouts  as,  with 
fl'ashing  eyes,  he  turns  to  the  little  troop.  "  Come  on, 
men  !"  And,  with  .Dayton  at  his  side  and  the  cheer 
ing  line  of  horsemen  at  his  back,  down  he  goes  in 
headlong  dash  upon  the  surging  flank.  Another  in 
stant  and,  with  crash  and  shock  that  hurls  many  a 
rider  from  the  saddle  among  the  grinding  hoofs  be- 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  281 

low  and  overthrows  a  dozen  plunging  steeds,  Kearny 
and  his  swordsmen  are  hewing  their  way  into  the  very 
heart  of  Hampton's  legion  and  making  straight  for  the 
flag.  There  is  a  moment  of  fierce,  thrilling  battle,  of 
vehement  struggling,  of  yells  and  curses  and  resound 
ing  blows  and  clashing  steel  and  sputtering  pistol- 
shots  ;  a  moment  of  mad  excitement  wherein  he  sees, 
but  for  a  second  of  time,  bearded,  grimy,  sweat-cov 
ered  faces,  lit  up  with  battle-fire,  that  live  in  his  mem 
ory  for  years  ;  a  moment  when  every  sense  seems  in 
tensified  and  every  nerve  and  sinew  braced  to  fivefold 
force,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  just  as  he  spurs  his 
charger  to  the  standard-bearer's  side  and  his  sabre  is 
raised  to  cut  him  down,  and  all  around  him  is  one  wild 
yell  and  clamor,  there  springs  between  him  and  his  prize 
a  face  and  form  he  well  remembers  ;  a  bearded  knight 
in  gray  and  gold,  whose  gleaming  steel  dashes  to  one 
side  the  blow  he  aims  at  the  standard-bearer's  skull, 
and  before  he  can  parry  in  return  has  gashed  his  cheek 
from  ear  to  chin.  Kearny  reels  from  the  force  of  the 
blow,  but  firmly  keeps  his  seat ;  and  though  he  is  half 
stunned,  his  practised  hand  whirls  his  blade  to  the  point, 
and  sends  it  straight  at  the  bared  and  brawny  throat 
before  him.  An  agile  twist  is  all  that  saves  the  jugular; 
but  it  is  a  well-nigh  fatal  move,  unbalancing  the  horse 
man  just  as  he  is  struck  in  flank  by  a  stalwart  sergeant 
of  Kearny's  little  troop,  and  down  he  goes,  horse  and 
rider  crashing  to  earth  in  the  centre  of  the  struggling 
mass.  Almost  at  this  supreme  moment,  too,  Kearny's 
buzzing  ears  are  conscious  of  a  tremendous  cheer  and 
thundering  shock  behind  him.  He  hears  Dayton's  ex- 


282  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

ultant  yell  of  welcome  to  Hart  and  bis  charging  squad 
ron,  and  then  he  hardly  knows  what  happens.  He 
feels  that  the  crowded  mass  about  him  is  disintegrat 
ing,  slipping  away,  edging  back  up  the  field.  He  finds 
that  he  is  borne  helplessly  with  them.  He  is  dizzy, 
faint,  bleeding,  and  exhausted,  and  can  only  drift 
along  ;  and  he  hardly  knows  how  to  account  for  it 
when,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  is  leaning,  breathless, 
against  the  shoulder  of  his  panting  horse,  and  Day 
ton,  panting  too,  is  at  his  side  bathing  and  bandaging 
his  mutilated  face. 

"  Have  we  driven  them?"  he  gasps. 

"  Driven  them?  Look  !"  is  the  answer  as  Dayton 
points  exultingly  up  the  field.  A  cloud  of  dust  is 
settling  back  to  earth,  shrouding  many  a  group  of 
prostrate,  stiffening,  or  struggling  men  and  horses  ; 
but,  surging  up  the  slopes  down  which  they  swept  so 
gallantly  but  a  little  time  before,  goes  a  disordered 
mass  of  fugitives,  with  Custer  and  Mclntosh,  Michi 
gan,  Pennsylvania,  and  Jersey  cheering,  hacking,  hew 
ing  at  their  backs.  The  great  cavalry  fight  is  over, 
and  Stuart  is  foiled.  Even  as  Pickett's  torn  and 
cruelly  shattered  lines  are  drifting  back  from  the  as 
sault  on  Hancock's  stubborn  front,  their  daring  breth* 
ren  were  breaking  before  the  sabres  of  Gregg's  divis 
ion — they  had  been  sacrificed  in  a  vain  attempt. 

That  night,  late,  Frank  Kearny  is  seated  with  band 
aged  face  by  the  bedside  of  the  man  whose  sabre  dealt 
the  blow.  Stunned  and  bleeding,  Wayne  Falconer 
had  been  dragged  from  under  his  dying  horse  and 
carried,  just  after  the  return  of  the  troopers  from  their 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  283 

successful  pursuit,  to  the  lines  of  Jersey  battalions  ; 
and  men  wondered  why  on  earth  Major  Kearny  should 
insist  on  giving  to  the  Confederate  officer  the  rude  cot 
they  had  brought  from  Lott's  farmhouse  for  him. 
Not  only  that,  but  he  would  not  rest  until  he  had 
found  a  surgeon  who  could  spare  a  moment  in  which 
to  attend  the  suffering  man  thus  thrown  a  second  time 
a  prisoner  in  his  hands.  Thanks  to  both  of  them,  and 
to  Dayton,  too,  Captain  Falconer  is  so  much  better 
by  the  hour  the  trumpets  are  pealing  tattoo  that  he  is 
propped  up  on  his  rough  pillow  of  overcoat  and  blan 
kets  and  enjoying  a  bite  of  something  to  eat — the  first 
he  has  had  for  twenty-four  hours — and  a  big  tin  cup 
of  coffee — the  first  he  has  tasted  since  they  raided  the 
trains  down  by  Rockville.  Then  he  grows  communi 
cative. 

"  Whom  do  you  suppose  we  had  the  pleasure  of 
hanging  just  before  we  crossed  the  Potomac  ?"  he 
asks  the  major,  for  Kearny  had  been  speaking  of  the 
destruction  of  the  Armistead  homestead. 

"  Tierney,  I  hope,"  suggests  Captain  Dayton. 

"Tierney  it  was,"  is  the  reply.  "As  thorough 
paced  a  villain  as  we  ever  had  to  deal  with.  It  was 
he  who  really  got  Henry  Armistead  into  that  awk 
ward  scrape.  It  was  he  who  succeeded  in  clouding 
your  name  with  a  charge  of  murder,  so  we  heard,  Ma 
jor  Kearny.  And  he  bragged  prodigiously  when  he 
first  got  back  to  us  of  having  shot  the  captain  in  a 
duel.  He  told  a  whining  story  of  self-defence  after 
wards.  Stuart  found  out  his  double-dealing  and  had 
him  kicked  out  of  camp.  Then  he  joined  some  guer- 


284  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

illas,  and  out  of  sheer  drunken  wantonness  burned  the 
old  homestead.  Then  he  was  caught  at  Leesburg  in 
some  more  dirty  work,  and  the  next  thing  I  heard  he 
was  strung  up  in  front  of  the  house  he  had  robbed." 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  those  fellows  of  Mullane's  old 
regiment,  Kearny,"  says  Dayton,  after  a  moment's 
silence.  "  It  will  interest  them  to  know  the  fellow 
confessed  to  the  shooting." 

But  Kearny  makes  no  reply.  His  heart  is  dwelling 
on  a  far  different  matter. 

"  You  knew  the  Armisteads  well,  did  you  not  ?"  he 
presently  asks  his  captive  guest. 

"  Yes.  Our  people  have  been  their  friends  and 
neighbors  for  three  generations." 

"  Can  you  form  any  idea  where  Miss  Armistead  has 
gone,  or  whether  she  has  remained  under  Dr.  Loring's 
care?" 

"  Indeed  I  cannot,  major.  I  did  not  hear  of  either 
of  them  while  we  were  at  White  Plains.  Has  Henry 
been  exchanged  yet,  or  that  brother  of  mine  ?  If  not, 
and  I  am  sent  to  join  them,  very  possibly  I  can  find 
out  and  get  word  to  you.  Either  one  of  them  would 
be  more  apt  to  know  than  I.  Scott  has  always  been 
an  adorer  of  hers." 

"  I  heard  as  much,"  answers  Kearny,  averting  his 
bandaged  face  and  looking  gloomily  away.  "  It  is 
an  engagement,  I  presume." 

"  It  may  be,  I  suppose,  if  we  ever  get  through  with 
this — unpleasantness." 


XXVII. 

ONCE  more  the  guidons  are  fluttering  along  the  fa 
miliar  roadways  under  the  shadows  of  the  Bull  Run 
range.  Once  more  the  echoed  trumpet-calls  float  mu 
sically  on  the  breeze,  and  long  columns  of  horsemen 
in  jaunty  blue  jackets,  yellow-trimmed,  come  trotting 
down  from  the  gaps  and  join  the  lines  below.  South 
ward  push  the  long,  dusty  ranks  of  infantry — brigade 
after  brigade  trudging  cheerily  along,  with  the  guns  of 
the  batteries  "  clinking  "  behind  them.  Lee  is  beaten 
back  from  Pennsylvania  and  is  returning  to  his  old  line 
below  the  Rapidan  ;  and  from  many  a  Virginia  home 
stead  whence  issued  stalwart,  soldierly  forms  to  join 
the  gray  columns  on  their  northward  march,  and  at 
whose  doors  and  windows  stood  enthusiastic  women 
waving  God  -  speed  and  loving  farewell  and  wildly- 
hopeful  encouragement,  there  is  heard  now  only  the 
wail  of  mourners  for  whom  there  seems  no  earthly 
comfort.  Pickett's  grand  assault,  Stuart's  headlong 
charge,  have  left  no  lasting  impress  on  the  Union  cause, 
but  have  desolated  half  the  homesteads  in  their  native 
state. 

And  Warrenton  is  saddest  hamlet  of  them  all.  Not 
a  household  here  that  wears  not  the  badge  of  mourn 
ing.  Husbands,  lovers,  sons,  and  brothers,  who  so 


286  BETWEEN    THE    LINES. 

buoyantly  set  forth  on  the  march  of  invasion,  are  missing 
by  hundreds  when  the  thinned  and  sad-faced  columns 
reappear  ;  and  though  she,  too,  wears  such  mourning- 
garb  as  the  situation  affords,  Lucy  Armistead,  loving 
ly  welcomed  and  tenderly  cared  for  in  the  family  of 
good  old  Dr.  Loring,  is  the  only  woman  in  this  sore- 
stricken  community  to  whom  Gettysburg  has  not 
brought  new  and  grievous  disaster. 

Once  more  she  is  in  "YVarrenton — not  the  social  pet 
she  was  before  the  cruel  war-days,  for  in  most  exagger 
ated  form  the  story  of  her  deeds  at  Hopeville  has 
gone  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  there  are  many  among 
her  former  intimates  and  "schoolgirl"  friends  who 
coldly  avoid  her  now.  To  this  she  appears  to  give  no 
heed.  Ever  since  her  dear  old  father's  death  she  has 
seemed  crushed  and  hopeless.  Loring  took  her  to  his 
home,  with  faithful  Hannah  to  serve  her,  and  then, 
finding  it  impossible  to  subsist  in  the  western  valley, 
and  urged  by  many  friends  to  come  and  cast  his  lot 
with  theirs  in  the  lovely  old  town  among  the  wooded 
hills,  he  moved  into  Warrenton,  and  now  is  living 
there,  doing  what  he  can  to  alleviate  the  want  and 
suffering,  the  pitiful  sorrows,  of  the  bereaved  ones  all 
around  him.  From  the  window  of  her  lonely  cham 
ber,  where  she  sits  most  of  the  livelong  autumn  day, 
Lucy  Armistead  looks  out  over  the  peaceful  church 
yard  where,  side  by  side,  are  resting  the  father  and 
mother  whom  she  loved  so  well ;  and  neither  Loring's 
efforts,  the  tender  pleadings  of  his  kind-hearted  wife, 
nor  Hannah's  spirited  sallies  seem  potent  to  rouse  her 
from  the  apathy  into  which  she  is  fallen.  The  neigh- 


BETWEEN  THE    LINES.  287 

bors  run  in  every  now  and  then  to  see  Mrs.  Loring,  or 
to  beg  for  some  advice  from  the  doctor,  but  they  do 
not  ask  for  Lucy.  She  does  not  walk  abroad ;  for 
that  matter,  no  one  among  the  women  cares  to,  except 
the  few  who  are  so  unterrified  as  to  rejoice  in  the  pos 
sibility  of  being  spoken  to  by  the  hated  Yankees,  or 
so  ill-favored  as  to  repel  the  most  determined  and  ruth 
less  of  the  invaders.  The  streets  are  given  up  to  the 
swarming  soldiery,  and  communication  from  house  to 
house  is  mainly  through  the  backyards.  Some  few 
among  Lucy's  old  friends  have  called  and  expressed  a 
desire  to  help  her  in  her  trouble,  but  they  are  very  few, 
and  the  reception  she  accords  them  is  not  encourag 
ing.  She  has  heard  the  grievous  exaggerations  that 
have  been  current  as  to  her  father's  life  at  the  old 
homestead,  and  she  can  be  roused  from  her  apathy 
only  by  mention  of  this  subject.  Then  she  is  one 
blaze  of  indignation,  and  will  hear  no  explanation,  no 
extenuation.  That  her  honored  father  could  have 
lived  in  this  community  nearly  seventy  years  only  to 
be  branded  in  his  declining  days  as  a  traitor,  a  spy,  a 
consorter  with  the  enemy,  an  open  and  defiant  har- 
borer  of  men  who  sought  the  lives  of  his  oldest  friends, 
a  double-faced  villain,  giving  information  to  both 
sides,  and  living  in  comfort  on  their  pay  and  bounty, 
while  his  neighbors  were  starving  —  such  were  the 
statements  told  and  believed  in  Warrenton  in  those 
days  when  the  coolest  heads  and  most  logical  minds 
were  apt  to  be  warped  in  their  judgments  by  the  end 
less  tales  at  the  expense  of  any  man  or  woman  who 
dared  show  less  than  hatred  at  sight  of  the  Union 


288  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

blue  —  that  her  father  should  have  been  so  cruelly 
slandered  is  something  Lucy  Armistead  can  forgive  in 
none  of  her  townsfolk,  and  so  stands  aloof  from  all. 

And  yet,  poor  girl,  even  while  she  hardens  her  heart 
against  them,  she  is  oppressed  with  sore  anxiety,  and 
is  most  in  need  of  comfort.  The  story  that  is  going 
the  rounds  among  the  Warrentonians  is  that  Henry 
Armistead — the  one  real,  loyal  Virginian  of  the  fam 
ily — the  gallant  Confederate  soldier  and  gentleman — 
the  only  one  now  left  in  the  beloved  gray  uniform  since 
his  heroic  kinsman  fell  dead  among  Cushing's  guns, 
foremost  in  Pickett's  memorable  charge  —  that  this 
brave,  true  Harry,  whom  they  all  loved  and  honored, 
is  now  being  tried  for  his  life  by  a  military  commis 
sion  of  bloodthirsty  Yanks,  and  will  doubtless  be 
hanged  as  a  spy.  The  trial  was  ordered  in  Washing 
ton,  and  his  case  is  well-nigh  hopeless.  Such  has  been 
Colonel  Van  Duzen's  sense  of  what  was  due  the  na 
tion  under  the  circumstances,  that,  leaving  to  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel  Westerlo  the  command  of  the  regiment 
and  the  rescue  from  Stuart's  raiders  of  his  constitu 
ents  along  the  Susquehanna,  the  late  district  com 
mander  has  turned  up  in  Washington  with  his  side  of 
the  story,  and,  all  other  witnesses  and  persons  inter 
ested  being  battling  at  the  front,  or  defenceless  under 
guard,  the  colonel  has  enjoyed  the  inestimable  advan 
tage  of  having  the  field  to  himself.  The  campaign 
over,  the  opposing  lines  once  more  facing  each  other 
down  along  the  Rapidan,  a  military  court  has  indeed 
been  organized  to  try  poor  Armistead,  who  stands 
charged  with  entering  the  Union  lines  in  disguise, 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  289 

with  fraudulent  papers  and  felonious  intent— in  plain 
words,  with  being  a  spy. 

Reluctantly  enough  has  Dr.  Loring  confessed  these 
details  to  her  in  answer  to  repeated  inquiry.  He 
dreaded  the  effect,  believing  that  the  news  would  only 
augment  her  wretchedness  and  plunge  her  deeper  in 
this  deplorably  apathetic  condition ;  but  doctors  are 
sometimes  as  much  surprised  in  their  patients  as  in 
the  result  of  their  prescriptions.  If  he  had  told  her 
of  some  great  victory,  and  Harry's  release  from  du 
rance,  he  could  hardly  have  ronsed  her  to  more  instant 
and  energetic  action.  For  the  first  time  since  the 
Union  troops  reoccupied  the  town  she  appears  on  the 
little  veranda,  and,  to  Loring's  amaze,  walks  straight 
down  through  the  shrubbery  to  the  front  gate,  faith 
ful  Hannah  following,  and  there  in  the  twilight  stands 
eagerly  gazing  up  and  down  the  quaint  old  village 
street.  Soldiers  are  sauntering  along  across  the  way ; 
a  train  of  army-wagons  is  slowly  trundling  by ;  sev 
eral  officers,  some  in  cavalry,  some  in  infantry  dress, 
are  lounging  near  the  corner,  and  these  she  studies 
closely  a  moment,  "  shading  her  eyes  with  a  slender 
white  hand,"  just  as  she  stood  that  battle-eve  at  Hope- 
ville.  Loring  anxiously  follows,  and  takes  his  place 
at  her  side. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do,  Lucy,  child?"  he  asks 
her,  noting  the  flush  that  has  mantled  her  white  cheek 
and  the  feverish  excitement  in  her  eyes. 

"Doctor!"  she  exclaims,  turning  impulsively,  al 
most  imploringly,  towards  him,  "  do  not  hinder — do 
not  blame  me !  Here  I  have  no  friends  but  you  and 
19 


290  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

your  loving  ones,  and  you  cannot  help  me  now. 
There,  in  that  uniform,  I  can  find  one  whose  friend 
ship  is  tried,  one  who  can  and  will  aid  me.  He  is  here 
somewhere,  for  I  heard  his  voice  but  yesterday." 

Even  as  she  is  speaking,  and  before  the  doctor  can 
reply,  Hannah  comes  scurrying  along  the  walk,  fol 
lowed  by  a  sauntering  young  cavalryman,  who  looks 
back  at  the  group  of  curious  and  watchful  comrades 
as  though  he  half  expects  to  be  made  the  victim  of 
some  practical  joke  and  the  butt  of  their  ridicule.  But 
at  sight  of  Lucy  Armistead's  face  he  promptly  throws 
away  the  cigar  at  which  he  was  vigorously  puffing, 
hastily  buttons  his  natty  shell-jacket,  and  raises  the 
forage-cap,  with  its  embroidered  sabres. 

"You — wished  to  see  me?"  he  asks,  with  mingled 
hesitancy  and  incredulity. 

"  I  wish  very  much  to  see  Colonel  Westerlo,  and 
ventured  to  ask  your  assistance  in  finding  him.  Is  he 
not  here  ?" 

"  He  was  here,  but  I  think  he  left  for  Washington 
this  morning.  He  is  summoned  as  a  witness  at  an 
important  trial." 

"  Oh,  do  not  tell  me  he  is  gone  !  I  must  see  him. 
It  is — it  is  my  brother  whose  life  is  at  stake." 

"Captain  Armistead  !"  exclaims  the  lieutenant.  "Is 
this — pardon  me — Miss  Armistead  ? — the  young  lady 
who  lived  at  Hopeville  Gap  ?" 

"  This  is  Miss  Armistead,"  answers  Dr.  Lor  ing,  for 
she  has  turned  away,  overcome  with  emotion. 

"And  wants  to  see  Colonel  Westerlo  at  once,"  is 
the  cavalryman's  response.  "  I'll  fetch  him  if  I  have 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  291 

to  follow  him  to  Washington,  and  you  shall  know  in 
ten  minutes  whether  or  not  he  has  gone."  Away  goes 
the  young  cavalier  down  the  village  street,  brushing 
through  the  inquisitive  throng  at  the  corner  with  im 
petuosity  they  can  no  more  resist  than  account  for. 
In  less  than  ten  minutes  he  is  seen  returning,  and  with 
him  comes  striding  along  in  glistening  top-boots  and 
gleaming  spurs  and  spotless  gauntlets,  a  stout,  sturdy, 
ruddy-faced,  gray-mustached  old  trooper,  with  the 
silver-leaves  of  a  lieutenant-colonel  on  his  shoulders 
— a  man  at  sight  of  whom  the  loungers  respectfully 
straighten  up  and  touch  their  caps — at  sight  of  whom 
Lucy  Armistead,  who  has  retired  with  the  doctor  to 
the  veranda  of  the  little  house,  comes  fluttering  down 
to  the  gate  once  more,  and  in  another  moment  is  cling 
ing  to  his  arm — clinging  to  an  arm  encased  in  the  hate 
ful  Union  blue,  and  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would 
break.  Loring  thanks  God  for  the  sight  of  her  tears. 
Later  that  day  they  are  seated  in  the  simply  fur 
nished  parlor  listening  to  Westerlo,  who  has  been  back 
to  his  camp,  and  now  reappears  with  a  number  of  let 
ters  and  papers.  She  is  crouching  on  a  low  stool, 
looking  up  in  his  face  in  breathless  attention  as  he 
begins.  It  is  true,  he  tells  them,  that  he  had  arrived 
in  Warrenton  but  the  morning  previous,  and  received 
his  orders  to  go  to  Washington  as  a  witness  for  the 
defence  in  Henry's  case  ;  but  a  later  telegram  notified 
him  that  he  would  not  be  examined  until  the  end  of 
the  week.  The  mail  of  the  previous  evening  brought 
him  letters  forwarded  from  the  Shenandoah,  and  this 
very  morning  came  a  telegram  from  Washington  tell- 


292  BETWEEN  THE    LINES. 

ing  him  Miss  Armistead  was  living  with  Dr.  Loring's 
family,  and  to  be  sure  and  find  her. 

"  From  Henry  ?"  she  inquires,  eagerly. 

"  No,  my  child,"  answers  Westerlo,  gravely.  "  From 
your  quondam  patient  and  prisoner,  Colonel  Kearny. 
He  is  in  Washington  conducting  your  brother's  de 
fence  with  the  best  legal  talent  of  the  North  to  back 
him."  And  as  the  old  soldier  turns  again  to  his  let 
ter,  he  fails  to  see  the  flood  of  rich  color  that  instantly 
sweeps  over  the  uplifted  face  and  weighs  it  quickly 
down.  He  never  hears  or  even  imagines  the  fervency 
of  the  whispered  prayer,  "  God  in  heaven  bless  him  !" 
He  reads  on,  never  looking  up  from  the  page  to  note 
the  effect  of  his  words. 

"Armistead  is  in  excellent  health,  thanks  to  the 
attentions  lavished  on  him  with  the  consent  of  the 
authorities  during  his  illness,  and  continued  without 
interference  during  his  convalescence,  and  until  he 
was  brought  to  this  point  for  his  trial.  He  is  so  se 
rene  and  calm  that  I  feel  convinced  that  every  soldier 
on  the  court  is  warmly  disposed  towards  him — the 
only  trouble  lies  with  two  or  three  vehement  patriots 
of  the  Van  Duzen  type,  who  are  death  on  rebels  any 
where  except  at  the  front.  We  still  believe  that  with 
your  evidence  and  mine,  and  that  of  one  or  two  men 
whom  he  encountered,  it  will  be  possible  to  disprove 
all  charges  of  being  a  spy  despite  the  disguise,  but 
it  is  taking  hard  work.  If  that  scoundrel,  Tierney, 
had  not  been  hanged,  something  might  have  been 
wrung  from  him  to  exculpate  Armistead.  Was  it  not 
odd  that  one  of  the  Falconers  should  have  been  pres- 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  293 

ent  at  the  banging?  Is  it  not  odd — "  But  here  the 
colonel  abruptly  stops.  The  next  few  words  are, 
"  That  the  other  Falconer  contentedly  remains  a  pris 
oner,  and  his  Virginia  friends  as  contentedly  permit 
it  ?  Have  they  no  use  for  him  ?  Armistead  does  not 
like  him — yet  seems  aware  of  the  situation  of  affairs 
regarding  which  you  once  spoke  to  me."  These  words 
old  Westerlo  skips  entirely  and  comes  down  to  the 
following  paragraph  : 

"  Of  course  he  was  deeply  affected  by  the  news  of 
his  father's  death  and  the  wanton  destruction  of  the 
old  homestead.  Anxiety  as  to  Miss  Armistead's  fut 
ure  also  seemed  to  weigh  heavily  upon  him  until  he 
got  the  news  that  she  was  under  Dr.  Loring's  roof  ; 
but  all  this  occurred  before  my  arrival.  When  you 
see  her  it  might  be  well  to  assure  her  that  nothing 
will  be  left  undone  to  save  her  brother,  but  there  is 
every  reason  why  she  should  accept  the  earnest  invi 
tation  of  Mrs.  Alexander  to  come  to  her  here.  Mrs. 
Alexander  is  her  mother's  younger  sister,  and  has  been 
devoted  to  Henry  since  he  reached  Washington." 

"  You  will  go  with  me,  my  child  ?"  asks  Westerlo. 
"  You  have  read  her  letter  ?" 

"  It  was  for  that  I  begged  you  to  come  to  me.  I 
would  have  gone  to  Washington — to  Henry — if  I  had 
had  to  ride  there  alone." 

And  that  night,  at  Warrenton  Junction,  Dr.  Loring 
sees  her  safely  ensconced  in  a  queer  old  wreck  of  a 
passenger  car,  tacked  to  the  end  of  a  long  train  of 
empty  brown  boxes  going  back  to  Washington  for 
supplies.  It  is  full  of  soldiers,  guards,  invalids,  fur- 


294  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

loughed  officers  and  men  ;  but  songs  and  laughter 
cease  when  the  slender,  girlish  form  in  the  garb  of 
deepest  mourning  is  ushered  in  by  bluff  old  Colonel 
Westerlo.  Pipes  and  cigars  are  tossed  aside.  There 
is  only  low-toned  talk  as  the  train  jolts  slowly  and 
painfully  away  over  a  road-bed  patched  out  of  all  re 
semblance  to  its  original  self,  destroyed  and  rebuilt 
time  after  time  in  place  after  place,  and  yet  a  blessed 
thoroughfare  to  Lucy  Armistead,  since  it  leads  to 
Henry's  side. 


XXYIII. 

ANOTHER  month  has  rolled  away.  Wintry  skies 
are  lowering  over  the  tented  slopes  of  Arlington. 
Deep  with  mud  are  all  the  roads  converging  on  the 
causeway  that  leads  from  the  "sacred  soil"  to  the 
Long  Bridge.  Gloom  and  depression  seem  prevalent 
everywhere  throughout  the  capital,  and  increasing 
testiness  becomes  observable  at  the  War  Department. 
Nothing  of  consequence  is  going  on  at  the  front,  yet 
officers  who  stand  in  need  of  brief  leaves  of  absence 
find  them  hard  to  get,  and  others  who  had  been  sum 
moned  to  Washington  to  testify  before,  or  serve  upon, 
the  court  which  tried  Henry  Armistead,  were  sent  to 
the  right  about  the  instant  their  duties  were  completed. 
A  hard -fought  case  was  that.  Kearny  had  early 
taken  the  precaution  to  secure  from  the  President 
himself  authority  to  remain  until  its  termination,  and 
so,  despite  Van  Duzen's  efforts,  he  could  not  be  sent 
away.  But  the  judge-advocate  developed  unexpected 
traits  as  prosecutor,  and  had  called  a  score  of  wit 
nesses  who,  before  the  case  for  the  government  was 
allowed  to  rest,  had  succeeded,  despite  themselves,  in 
convincing  most  hearers  that  there  was  little  hope  for 
the  accused.  Poor  Lucy,  who  at  first  had  occupied  a 
seat  close  to  his,  was  made  so  wretched  by  the  appar- 


296  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

ent  complaisance  with  which  Henry's  counsel  permit 
ted  this  accumulation  of  evidence  that  her  brother 
begged  her  not  to  return  to  the  court-room  until  the 
defense  began.  "Wait  until  Westerlo  and  Kearny 
are  summoned,"  he  had  said.  "  Then  they  will  hear 
and  see  the  other  side." 

Womanlike,  however,  she  chafed  at  the  idea  of 
waiting  until  the  adversary  was  utterly  talked  out 
before  opening  fire  in  return.  But  Mrs.  Alexander 
gently  added  her  arguments  to  those  of  her  brother ; 
old  Westerlo,  who  daily  escorted  them  to  and  from 
the  court-room,  gravely  pleaded  with  her  to  remain 
at  home  or  to  drive  in  the  open  air  each  day  for  the 
week  to  come,  by  which  time,  he  promised  her,  there 
should  be  something  worth  hearing.  As  for  Kearny, 
he  never  left  the  court  an  instant,  and  when  not  en 
gaged  in  consultation  with  the  prisoner  and  his  coun 
sel,  or  in  taking  notes  of  the  testimony,  he  was  around 
among  Van  Duzen's  people  questioning.  Only  to  greet 
her  with  grave  and  courteous  welcome,  and  a  few  words 
of  sympathy  and  cheer,  had  he  been  near  her  since 
her  coming,  and — it  was  not  quite  what  she  had  hoped 
or  expected. 

"I  am  ordered  to  return  to  Warrenton  by  first 
train,"  said  old  Westerlo,  coming  suddenly  in  upon 
them  the  day  after  her  reluctant  acceptance  of  the 
new  arrangement.  "  They  will  summon  me  by  tele 
graph  when  I  am  needed.  You  ask  me  why  this  order. 
Ah,  how  can  I  say  ?  Fear  not,  little  one.  All  goes 
well.  That  Kearny — he  is  a  wonderful  fellow  !  He 
is  more  than  a  match  for  them ;  he  will  overturn 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  297 

them  —  overwhelm  them.  The  lawyer,  he  is  very 
well ;  but  Colonel  Kearny  is  the  soldier.  He  knows 
what  will  best  tell  with  soldier  judges,  and  every  time 
he  writes  a  question  they  say  the  judge -advocate 
scowls  and  refuses  to  put  it,  and  then  the  court  is 
cleared  for  discussion  ;  and  when  it  is  reopened  and 
they  go  in  again,  the  question  is  put,  and  our  lawyer 
smiles.  Fear  not,  my  child.  All  will  come  right.  Ah, 
you  little  thought  a  year  ago  that  you  had  nursed 
back  the  life  that  was  to  save  your  brother's !" 

At  last  the  case  for  the  defence  began,  and  once 
more  she  took  her  place  by  Henry's  side,  and  stout  old 
Westeiio — the  picture  of  the  "  square  "  and  solid  sol 
dier — gave  his  testimony,  and  stood  unshaken  by  the 
cross-fire  of  the  judge-advocate.  It  was  a  matter  of 
some  hours'  work,  and  Lucy's  tearful  eyes  and  flush 
ing  cheeks  bore  witness  to  the  emotion  with  which 
she  listened.  Time  and  again  that  morning  she  found 
it  impossible  to  resist  the  longing  to  steal  her  hand 
into  Henry's  as  he  sat  there,  so  calm  and  serene.  More 
than  once  she  found  her  eyes  glancing  furtively  at 
Kearny,  seated  as  usual  close  by  the  lawyer's  side. 
How  pale,  how  worn  he  looked  !  How  red  and  deep 
seemed  the  scar  of  that  sabre  stroke  upon  his  cheek ! 
Then  he  was  called  to  the  witness  stand,  and  all 
through  the  evidence  that  he  gave  she  was  conscious 
that  the  eyes  of  the  judge-advocate — a  sandy-haired, 
sharp-featured  New  England  lawyer — were  wander 
ing  from  her  face  to  that  of  the  witness  and  back 
again.  Then  he  began  writing  his  questions,  and 
presently  they  were  read,  one  at  a  time.  They  re- 


298  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

lated  to  Kearny's  sojourn  at  the  Armistead  place ;  to 
his  reception  there  ;  to  his  wounds,  illness,  suffering ; 
then  to  the  fact  that  she  had  been  mainly  instrumental 
in  nursing  him  back  to  health.  She  saw  that  Kearny's 
pale  features  were  becoming  flushed,  and  that  his 
eyes  were  beginning  to  glow  under  their  heavy  brows. 
It  was  apparent  to  him,  then,  that  the  purpose  in  ask 
ing  these  questions  was  to  convince  the  court  that  a 
sense  of  gratitude  impelled,  him  to  testify  in  behalf 
of  the  prisoner.  She  saw  that  so  long  as  the  judge- 
advocate  looked  towards  the  witness,  Kearny's  eyes 
never  flinched  from  their  stern,  set  gaze  into  his  ad 
versary's  face — for  as  adversaries  the  events  of  the 
trial  had  caused  them  to  regard  each  other  ;  but  when, 
presently,  the  military  exponent  of  the  law  glanced 
down  to  look  over  his  memoranda,  Kearny  quickly 
turned  :  one  instant  he  gazed  at  her,  their  eyes  meet 
ing  fully  as  he  did  so,  and  then  he  looked,  rather  than 
gave,  a  signal  to  the  counsel  for  the  defence.  At  the 
next  question  asked  by  the  judge-advocate  there  was 
prompt  objection ;  brief,  animated  discussion;  a  protest 
on  part  of  the  defence  that  the  question  was  irrelevant 
and  trenching  upon  new  matter  ;  a  vehement  rejoinder, 
and,  in  the  midst  of  the  war  of  words,  the  brief,  stern 
order  from  the  lips  of  the  presiding  officer,  "  The  court 
will  be  cleared  !"  A  moment  afterwards,  as  she  stood 
in  the  corridor  without,  gazing  up  in  Henry's  face  and 
clinging  to  his  arm,  she  was  conscious  that  Kearny 
was  at  her  side. 

"  May  I  speak  with  you  one  moment,  Miss  Armis 
tead  ?"  he  asked. 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  299 

It  was  the  first  interview  he  had  asked  since  her  com 
ing,  the  only  time  he  had  sought  to  see  or  speak  with 
her  alone;  but  she  never  hesitated.  She  well  knew 
the  tone  and  tremor  of  his  voice;  she  well  knew  that 
it  was  some  urgent  and  imperative  need.  Smilingly 
Henry  looked  down  as  she  turned  away,  and  beckoned 
to  Mrs.  Alexander  to  come  to  him  in  her  stead.  To 
gether  they  stood  and  watched  the  pair  as  they  walked 
slowly  towards  a  window  at  the  end  of  the  broad  hall 
way,  Kearny  bending  over  and  speaking  earnestly  to 
the  slender  girl,  whose  face  at  first  seemed  looking  up 
into  his,  then,  all  on  a  sudden,  drooped  from  the  search 
in  his  shining  eyes. 

"How  I  wish  it  could  be  !"  said  Mrs.  Alexander, as 
she  read  the  thought  revealed  in  Armistead's  frank 
face. 

"  And  why  shouldn't  it  ?"  he  asked,  in  some  sur 
prise  at  the  doubt  in  her  tone.  "  What  man  on  earth 
is  better  worth  her  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  It  isn't — him.  Any  one  —  any 
woman,  at  least,  can  see  how  he  loves  the  very  ground 
she  moves  on.  There  is  something  wrong;  he  has 
hardly  come  near  her.  I  believe  he  has  told  her,  and 
she  has  refused." 

"Then  I  mean  to  know  the  reason  why!"  said 
Armistead,  hastily. 

"Henry!  If  you  want  to  ruin  the  whole  thing, 
just  do  it." 

They  were  coming  back  now.  Only  a  few  words 
had  been  exchanged.  He  was  very  pale,  and  his  face 
had  a  set,  steadfast  look,  an  expression  of  a  knowledge 


300  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

of  an  ordeal  ahead  which  there  was  no  dodging.  Hers 
was  downcast,  suffused.  As  they  neared  the  waiting 
pair,  she  seemed  to  quicken  her  pace,  and,  quitting  her 
escort's  side,  came  straight  forward  without  another 
word  to  him,  without  even  a  glance  of  farewell. 

Presently  the  doors  were  reopened ;  the  prisoner, 
and  his  counsel  and  friends,  and  the  array  of  curious 
spectators,  filed  quickly  back  into  the  close  atmosphere 
where  sat  in  solemn  dignity  the  blue-uniformed  court. 
Mrs.  Alexander  endeavored  to  move  in  with  the  rest, 
but  turned  in  surprise  at  Lucy's  whispered  "  Wait !" 
Amidst  the  rustling  of  dresses,  the  tramp  of  feet,  the 
moving  of  benches,  and  the  crowding  of  lookers-on 
at  the  door,  the  rasping  voice  of  the  judge-advocate 
could  be  plainly  distinguished. 

"  It  is  the  decision  of  the  court  that  the  question  is 
relevant,  and  the  objection  of  the  defence  is  over 
ruled,  The  witness  will  therefore- answer." 

"  Aunt  Annie  !  Come  away — anywhere  !  I  can 
not  stay  !"  was  the  astonishing  plea  that  fell  on  Mrs. 
Alexander's  ears.  Without  a  word  she  led  her  niece 
out  into  the  open  air,  out  into  the  November  sleet;  but 
even  as  they  passed  the  portals,  where  sentries  in  belted 
blue  kept  guard,  the  bell  in  a  neighboring  tower  tolled 
three  o'clock.  The  court  stood  adjourned  for  the  day. 
When  it  met  on  the  morrow  she  was  not  there,  and  the 
question  the  judge-advocate  meant  to  ask  when  she  re 
appeared  was  not  asked  at  all.  He  had  reserved  it  as 
a  dramatic  coup,  but  Kearny's  quick  wits  had  forestalled 
him.  "  Miss  Armistead,"  he  had  said  to  her,  "  in  order 
to  convince  this  court  that  I  am  biassed  in  your  broth- 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  301 

er's  favor,  and  so  to  discredit  my  evidence,  it  is  the  pur 
pose  of  that  man  to  ask  questions  which,  except  the  court 
forbid,  I  must  answer.  It  is  not  that  I  shrink  from 
laying  bare  my  heart,  if  good  could  come  of  it,  but  here 
it  might  do  harm.  To  make  its  effect  telling,  he  means 
to  ask  it  in  your  presence.  I  beg  you  to  remain  away 
— not  to  re-enter  that  room  until  you  are  notified  that 
I  am  no  longer  under  examination.  Will  you  promise  ?" 

She  could  not  look  up.  Down  in  the  depths  of  her 
heart  she  knew — knew  well — what  he  meant.  The 
tenor  of  the  questions  already  asked  was  but  prepara 
tion  for  others  yet  to  come.  She  Jcnew  now,  after  these 
few  words  of  Kearny's,  that  he  would  be  questioned 
as  to  his  sentiments  towards  her — possibly,  in  plain 
words,  whether  he  did  or  did  not  love  the  sister  of  the 
prisoner,  the  young  lady  now  seated  by  the  prisoner's 
side.  Never  would  she  subject  him  to  that.  And  yet 
— and  yet,  still  with  drooping  head  and  downcast  eyes, 
she  stood  trembling,  hesitant.  Could  it  be  she  wished 
to  hear  from  his  lips  once  again  the  words  she  had  for 
bidden  when  last  they  met  ?  Could  it  be  that  even  in 
this  supreme  moment  there  was  in  her  sweet,  frank, 
open  nature  a  tiny  spark  of  coquetry?  Would  she 
have  been  quite  woman  without  it ! 

"What — what  can  he  ask?"  she  murmured;  and 
though  her  head  bowed  lower,  though  she  could  not 
look  up  in  his  face,  she  listened  with  eager  ears  and 
beating  heart. 

"  He  would  ask  that  which  would  compel  me  to  say 
again,  and,  this  time,  to  the  whole  populace,  that  my 
heart  and  soul  are  bound  up  in  the  girl  who  sits  there 


302  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

at  the  prisoner's  side — the  sister  of  this  imperilled  man. 
God  knows  it  is  not  for  myself  I  implore  you  to  keep 
away.  It  is  for  Henry's  sake.  But  for  that  the  whole 
world  might  know  that  ever  since  your  swreet  face 
led  me  back  to  life  and  strength  I  have  loved  you — 
utterly." 

The  end  of  the  dreary  month  is  at  hand.  The  court 
has  adjourned,  and  its  members  have  gone  their  ways 
to  other  spheres  of  duty.  As  to  the  verdict,  no  one 
of  their  number  can  reveal  it.  The  "  proceedings"  are 
now  under  review  at  the  War  Department;  but  an  old 
soldier  who  knew  her  father  in  the  ante-bellum  days 
calls  and  asks  for  Lucy  before  he  leaves  the  city. 
"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  says  to  her,  "you  have 
made  such  a  study  of  military  law  of  late  that  you 
know  we  are  sworn  not  to  divulge  the  sentence  of  the 
court;  but  the  first  time  I  find  myself  in  a  scrape  I 
shall  beg  that  fine  fellow,  Kearny,  to  be  amicus  curice 
for  me — though  I  shrewdly  fancy  it  isn't  money  that 
inspires  his  efforts."  And  the  veteran  goes  away  think 
ing  he  has  said  something  capital. 

Everybody  tells  her  Henry  is  triumphantly  acquitted. 
Dozens  of  people — good  Union-loving  people  among 
them,  too — were  fascinated  by  his  dignity  and  noble 
bearing  before  the  court,  as  well  as  by  her  sweet,  pallid 
face  and  pathetic  mourning  garb.  Old  Westerlo  tele 
graphs  from  Warrenton  words  of  hearty  congratula 
tion  the  very  day  after  the  adjournment  of  the  court, 
though  he  is  careful  to  make  no  allusion  to  Henry  or 
Henry's  case  in  doing  so.  But  how  could  he  know 


BETWEEN   THE    LINES.  '     303 

the  result?  Who  could  tell  him?  Mrs.  Alexander's 
cosey  home  has  many  callers  just  now — people  who 
are  full  of  sympathy  and  loving-kindness,  and  whom 
Lucy  thanks  with  tears  in  her  eyes;  but  the  one  whom 
she  longs  to  see  and  thank,  the  one  for  whom  her  heart 
prays  night  and  day,  never  comes  near  her.  It  is  with 
a  shock  of  bitter  sorrow,  of  almost  incredulous  grief, 
she  hears  in  answer  to  the  timid  question  that  for  two 
days  has  trembled  on  her  lips  that  Colonel  Kearny  has 
returned  to  take  command  of  his  regiment  at  the  front. 
Gone  without  a  look  or  a  word  !  Gone  without  giv 
ing  her  opportunity  to  say, "  God  bless  you  for  all  you've 
done  for  me  and  mine  "  !  Gone  when  now,  at  last,  she 
fully  realizes  that,  except  the  love  she  bears  her  soldier 
brother,  all  the  maiden  wealth,  all  the  girlish  worship, 
all  the  woman's  honor  and  reverence  of  her  heart  of 
hearts,  is  centred  in  him,  her  knight,  her  hero,  her 
brother's  savior. 

Henry  has  been  escorted  back  to  his  guarded  case 
mate  in  a  distant  harbor,  and  as  letters  from  the  pris 
oners  have  to  be  scrutinized  by  the  authorities,  he  has 
warned  her  to  look  for  no  line  from  him  until  after  the 
promulgation  of  the  orders  in  his  case.  Then  he  ex 
pects  prompt  exchange,  and  Mrs.  Alexander  is  to  take 
her  to  see  him  once  more  before  he  goes  back  to  re 
join  his  gallant  troop  in  Stuart's  lines.  Wayne  Fal 
coner  and  he  are  planning  to  go  in  the  same  "  batch  " 
of  prisoners,  he  has  told  her,  and  she  recalls  the  fact 
that  of  the  other  Falconer  he  has  avoided  all  mention. 
She  used  to  wonder  at  Henry's  evident  dislike  for 
"poor  Scott,"  as  the  elder  brother  once  spoke  of  him. 


304  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

Now  she  shares  it,  and  one  day  when  Mrs.  Alexander, 
narrowly  watching  her  as  she  does  so,  reads  aloud  that 
this  officer  has  given  his  parole  and  expects  to  go 
abroad,  she  at  once  amazes  and  delights  her  warm 
hearted  relative  by  springing  to  her  feet,  her  face  Hush 
ing  with  indignation  and  vividly  contrasting  with  the 
pallor  of  the  past  week,  and  with  all  her  old  spirit, 
exclaiming,  "  Given  his  parole  !  Going  abroad  !  Oh, 
the  shame  of  it !  I  hope  he  may  never  set  foot  in 
America  again  !" 

"And  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Alexander  to  herself,  "they 
thought  it  was  he  who  stood  in  Colonel  Kearny's 
way." 

Two  days  more  and  there  comes  sudden  telegram  to 
Mrs.  Alexander  that  fills  them  with  surprise.  It  is 
dated  New  York. 

"  Come  at  once.  Captain  Armistead  leaves  for  Fortress  Monroe 
to-morrow — for  exchange.  GERARD  B.  PAULDING." 

"Who  is  Gerard  B.  Paulding?"  asks  Mrs.  Alexan 
der,  after  a  moment  of  rapid  calculation  as  to  time 
and  train. 

"He  is  a  relative  of  Colonel  Kearny's,"  answers 
Lucy,  slowly.  "Henry  knew  him  when  he  was  at 
college,  at  least  he  knew  his  daughter." 

Early  the  next  day  they  are  in  New  York,  and  a 
little  steamer  plying  down  the  bay  conveys  them  to 
the  island  fortification  under  whose  guns  is  already 
moored  the  big  black  transport  that  is  to  carry  the 
swarm  of  prisoners  "  back  to  Dixie."  Aboard  the 
boat  with  them  are  numerous  people,  men  and  women, 


BETWEEN  THE   LINES.  305 

who  are  mainly  silent  and  apparently  distrustful  of 
one  another.  They  are  friends  or  relatives,  hoping 
for  a  word  or  two  with  the  Southerners  before  they 
go.  As  the  gang-plank  is  thrown  out,  a  young  officer 
springs  briskly  aboard,  followed  by  two  or  three  non 
commissioned  officers  and  men.  The  guard  at  the 
sally-port  is  paraded  under  arms.  A  number  of  pas 
sengers  press  forward  and  attempt  to  go  ashore,  but 
are  promptly  checked.  None  may  land  who  are  un 
provided  with  passes  from  the  general  commanding  in 
the  city.  There  has  been  no  time  to  think  of  such  a 
thing,  and  Lucy,  in  despair,  turns  her  brimming  eyes 
to  her  aunt.  "  Oh,  what  can  we  do  ?"  she  asks.  Mrs. 
Alexander  appeals  to  the  officer.  He  is  courteous, 
but  firm.  The  orders  are  imperative.  But  at  this 
instant  there  appears  upon  the  scene  a  tall,  distin 
guished-looking  man,  somewhat  elderly,  but  with  alert 
movements  and  observant  eyes.  "Mrs.  Alexander? 
— Miss  Armistead  ?"  he  inquires,  lifting  his  hat  as  he 
bows  with  courtly  grace.  "  They  hardly  dared  expect 
you  until  the  noon  boat,  but  I  came  out  to  see,  and 
was  assured  the  instant  my  eyes  fell  on  this  young 
lady's  face.  Take  my  arm,  Mrs.  Alexander.  Captain 
Cutting,  will  you  escort  Miss  Armistead  ?" 

And  so  they  are  led  ashore  past  sentries,  who  salute 
in  silence  instead  of  opposing  glittering  arms.  A 
moment's  walk  brings  them  to  the  quarters  of  the  com 
manding  officer,  and  there  another  sentry  "  presents  " 
to  the  officer  of  the  day,  and  a  corporal  reports  that 
"  the  gentleman  is  in  the  colonel's  parlor."  Wonder- 
ingly,  Lucy  ascends  the  wooden  stairs.  Who  may 
20 


306  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

"  they  "  be  ?  she  asks  herself  as  the  party  enters.  Op 
posite  the  doorway  to  the  bright  army  parlor  Mr. 
Paulding  pauses  with  Mrs.  Alexander  at  his  side,  and 
smilingly  beckons  Lucy  to  lead.  She  does  so,  silently, 
and  stands  just  inside  the  portals,  looking  around  in 
surprise  and  disappointment.  No  Henry  there  to  wel 
come  her  !  Beyond,  there  is  another  room,  a  library 
and  a  study  combined,  and  its  door  is  open.  Stepping 
lightly  thither,  Lucy  Armistead  pauses  in  astonish 
ment.  Yonder  stands  Henry,  oblivious  of  her  pres 
ence,  and  by  his  side,  gazing  up  into  his  eyes,  clinging 
to  his  arm,  encircled  by  the  other,  is  the  explanation 
of  his  oblivion — a  beautiful,  dark-eyed,  dark-haired 
girl.  Even  in  her  stupefaction,  Miss  Armistead  can 
not  but  notice  how  admirably  she  is  dressed,  and, 
womanlike,  feels  herself  at  disadvantage;  but  in  the 
next  instant  the  absorbed  pair  have  suddenly  looked 
up  and  seen  her. 

"Lulie  !"  cries  the  captain,  as  he  springs  forward 
and  clasps  her  in  his  arms.  Then,  with  pride  and 
mirth  and  gladness  mingling  in  his  heart,  he  raises 
her  tearful  face,  kisses  tenderly  the  moistened  eyes. 
"  Come!"  he  says,  laughing  in  delight,  holding  her  with 
his  left  arm,  and  stretching  forth  the  other  hand  for 
the  tall  stranger  standing  there  with  such  a  happy 
blush  upon  her  face.  "  Come  !  It's  high  time  you 
knew  each  other,  you  sisters  that  are  to  be,  despite  the 
fact  we  are  Rebs  to  the  very  marrow.  Lucy,  this  is 
my  promised  wife,  Kate  Paulding." 

She  comes  forward  smilingly,  and  bends  with  glis 
tening  eyes  and  mantling  cheeks  to  greet  the  girl  who 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  307 

still  hovers  there  wonderingly,  encircled  by  Henry's 
arm.  There  is  an  instant  only  of  silence  and  hesita 
tion  on  Lucy's  part;  then  her  voice  obeys  her. 

"Oh,  forgive  me  !"  she  cries.  "I — I'm  so  glad; 
but — I  thought — all  along —  Why,  Henry!  You  told 
me  so  yourself  !" 

And  Kate  Paulding's  lips  are  pressed  to  her  wet 
cheek  before  she  answers,  laughing  low  amid  her 
blushes. 

"  That  was  all  my  fault.  A  school-girl  romance, 
all  my  own,  and  long  since  forgotten." 

Mine  Run,  that  bloodless  contest  wherein  for  the 
last  time  Lee's  science  prevailed  over  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  is  over  and  done  with.  The  nation  has 
dismally  resigned  itself  to  the  inevitable  winter  of 
masterly  inactivity  in  the  East,  but  looks  hopefully  to 
the  generals  rising,  fight  after  fight,  to  eminence  in 
the  West.  Thither  enterprising  young  soldiers  are 
eagerly  turning.  Thither  Colonel  Frank  Kearny  has 
determined  to  make  his  way,  and  is  once  again  in 
Washington  seeking  service  in  the  distant  field.  Lucy 
Armistead  listens  with  bated  breath  and  wildly  flut 
tering  heart  to  her  aunt's  cool  announcement  of  her 
casual  meeting  with  him  near  Willard's,  his  kind  in 
quiries  after  her,  and  his  regrets  that  he  would  prob 
ably  be  unable  to  see  her,  as  he  expected  to  start  for 
Chattanooga  on  the  morrow.  But  cool  as  is  Mrs. 
Alexander's  manner,  her  eyes  are  observant  as  ever, 
and  that  evening  he  comes. 

How  he  looks,  what  he  says,  what  she  replies — these 


308  BETWEEN   THE   LINES. 

are  matters  that  for  ten  minutes  or  more  Lucy  Armis- 
tead  knows  nothing  of.  She  is  seated  there  in  the  arm 
chair,  listening  to  the  grave,  courteous  tones  in  which 
he  is  telling  Mrs.  Alexander  of  some  friends  of  hers  in 
the  cavalry  corps.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  herself 
hardly  speaks  a  word.  Then  Mrs.  Alexander  rises. 

"  I  know  your  time  is  precious,  colonel,  and  so  I  will 
go  and  write  the  letter  at  once.  You  are  sure  it  won't 
be  a  trouble  to  you  ?  No  doubt  the  mails  would  even 
tually  carry  it  to  Cousin  Harry." 

"  But  I  shall  see  the  captain  in  less  than  four  days. 
Don't  fear  to  burden  me.  Make  it  as  long  as  you 
like."  And  in  another  moment  she  is  gone.  Lucy 
glances  timidly,  tremblingly,  up  at  the  tall,  stalwart 
soldier  who  opens  the  door  for  the  departing  lady. 
Then  the  room  seems  to  whirl  as  he  slowly  returns  and 
stands  there  by  the  mantel.  He  will  not  speak,  and 
at  last  she  has  to. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came — to  see  us,  colonel.  There 
would  have  been  no  way  to  tell  you  how  I  thanked 
you,"  she  begins. 

But  he  raises  his  hand,  interposing. 

"  There  was  no  need,"  he  answers,  gently.  "  What 
have  I  done  compared  with  what  you  and  yours  have 
done  and  suffered  on  my  account  ? — though  you  lost 
no  opportunity,  Miss  Armistead,"  he  adds,  with  rather 
a  dreary  smile,  "  to  assure  me  it  was  all  on  Henry's 
account.  Have  you  heard  from  him  at  all  ?" 

"Not  since  his  return;  that  is,  not  directly."  And 
now  she  is  tingling  all  over.  How  can  she  speak  of 
Kate  Paulding  ? 


BETWEEN    THE    LINES.  309 

"  Through  my  Cousin  Kate  ?"  he  unhesitatingly 
asks.  "  That  reminds  me.  We  can  congratulate  each 
other  on  being  in  future  second  cousins-in-law,  can 
we  not  ?  I  am  really  delighted  with  that  engagement, 
though  they  tell  me  it  is  not  to  be  spoken  of  until  the 
war  is  over — rather  an  indefinite  time.  By  the  way — 
now  may  I  see  the  letter  Henry  wrote  to  insure  my 
welcome  at  the  homestead  ?  How  the  conceit  is  taken 
out  of  one  as  he  advances  in  years  !  Henry  demands 
my  safety  and  nursing  and  concealment  solely,  I  find, 
on  account  of  my  fair  cousin,  with  whom  he  was  in 
love,  and  who,  with  the  ruthlessness  of  her  sex,  exacted 
the  promise  from  him  that  if  ever  I  fell  into  his  hands 
he  would  do  his  best  to  save  me.  Being  an  Armis- 
tead,  he  had  to  keep  his  word.  Then  you  nurse  and 
guard  me — all  on  Henry's  account ;  and  I — ah,  well ! 
I've  paid  for  it  heavily.  Once  I  was  absurd  enough 
to  hope  it  might  have  been  a  little  on  my  own  account. 
There  —  forgive  me  —  I  mean  no  reproach.  I  vowed 
not  to  speak  of  it.  I  even  meant  —  not  to  see  you; 
but  your  aunt  sent  an  urgent  message;  she  wished 
to  see  me.  Let  me  have  Henry's  letter  to  read  every 
now  and  then ;  it  will  cure  this  malady  better  than  any 
thing  else  perhaps." 

But  she  has  bowed  her  head  and  will  make  no  an 
swer.  He  comes  a  step  or  two  towards  her,  wondering 
at  her  silence.  Still  she  sits  there  bending  forward 
now,  her  face  hidden  in  her  trembling  hands. 

"You  need  not  hesitate,  Lucy,"  he  continues,  gen 
tly.  "  She  has  written  me  the  whole  story — how  she 
once  fancied  it  was  Cousin  Frank  she  adored,  and  all 


310  BETWEEN   THE    LINES. 

that  school-girl  nonsense.  It  was  all  over  with  when 
a  fellow  like  your  Henry  appeared  as  a  lover,  and  I 
don't  wonder.  And  so  twice,  it  seems,  am  I  forestalled 
by  these  incomparable  Virginia  wooers.  I  surrender 
my  boy  sweetheart  to  an  Armistead.  I  yield  the  love, 
the  queen,  the  wife  of  my  heart  and  soul  and  strength — 
you,  oh,  my  darling,  to  Scott  Falconer." 

She  springs  to  her  feet  now,  her  eyes  dilating,  her 
little  hands  clasping  tightly  as  she  gazes  full  into  his 
quivering  face. 

"  Scott  Falconer  !  Colonel  Kearny,  what  can  you 
mean  ?  Scott  Falconer  !  The  man — the  Virginian — 
who  gave  his  parole  and  has  fled  to  Europe  to  avoid 
further  service — that  coward!" 

"  They  told  me  so — his  own  brother — you  yourself 
— just  after  I  saw  you  with  him.  If  he  is  not  'that 
other '  who  stood  between  us,  in  God's  name  who  is  it  ?" 

She  cannot  answer — she  cannot  speak.  Her  eyes 
are  drooping  again,  her  bosom  heaving,  her  heart 
bounding.  Oh,  why  cannot  he  see — why  does  not  he 
understand?  Suddenly  there  is  a  rustle  of  skirts  in 
the  upper  hall — Aunt  Annie's  brisk  and  cheery  voice. 
The  letter  is  written  and  she  is  returning.  It  is  now 
or  never,  and  Lucy  knows  it.  He  springs  to  her  side 
as  the  steps  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  distinct  and  de 
liberate,  are  heard  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Lucy,  tell  me,"  he  implores. 

And  then  quickly  she  turns,  though  even  now  her 
sweet  eyes  are  hidden  ;  quickly  her  hand  flutters  into 
his  throbbing  palm,  almost  breathlessly  she  murmurs 
the  longed-for  answer, 


BETWEEN   THE   LINES.  311 

"No  man  on  earth." 

What  eccentric  creatures  some  women  are  !  Half 
way  down  the  stairs  Mrs.  Alexander  discovers  she 
has  forgotten  a  postscript,  and  turns  about  to  write  it. 
There  is  a  blessed  quarter  of  an  hour  in  which  to  re 
cover  from  the  semi-dazed  condition  in  which  the  oc 
cupants  of  the  parlor  find  themselves.  A  little  later 
they  are  standing  at  the  mantel,  and  she  is  looking 
shyly  up  into  his  glowing,  soldierly  face,  a  great  joy 
illumining  her  violet  eyes. 

"And  it  was  Wayne  Falconer  whose  sabre  did  that 
— a  Virginia  sabre  ?" 

"  A  Virginia  sabre,  indeed  !  You  must  thank  your 
own  neighbors  for  spoiling  what  good  looks  I  had, 
Lucy,"  he  replies,  laughingly. 

She  is  silent  a  moment,  still  looking  up  at  the  red 
scar  on  his  cheek. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  a  story  I  once  read.  A  soldier 
who  went  to  his  king  and  begged  his  permission  to 
challenge  a  brother  officer  who  had  struck  him  in  the 
face.  Nothing  else,  he  said,  would  wash  out  the  stain 
upon  his  honor  or  heal  the  smart.  Did  you  ever  hear 
it,  or  how  the  king  made  amends  for  the  injury  ?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  it,"  he  answers. 

She  hesitates  a  moment,  the  color  deepening  in  her 
face.  Her  hands  are  clasped  together  but  she  raises 
and  rests  them  timidly  on  his  breast.  Then  looking 
up  in  his  eyes  she  whispers, 

"Bend  down,  just  a  little." 

He  does  so,  inclining  his  ear  for  the  expected  words. 


312  BETWEEN  THE   LINES. 

Suddenly  she  rises  on  tiptoe,  her  arms  are  quickly 
thrown  about  his  neck,  his  bronzed  cheek  is  drawn 
still  nearer,  and  then  her  soft  lips  rest  upon  the  sabre's 
scar. 


THE   END. 


A  WAR-TIME  WOOING. 

A  Story.  By  Captain  CHARLES  KING.  Illustrated  by 
R  F.  ZOGBAUM.  pp.  iv.,  196.  Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Extra, 
81  00.  

Captain  King  writes  with  spirit  and  grace  and  power  of  human 
emotion.  "A  War-Time  Wooing"  is  without  doubt  the  most  in 
tense  and  thrilling  of  these  stories  which  Captain  King  has  written. 
— Boston  Evening  Traveller. 

A  capital  military  story.  .  .  .  All  Captain  King's  stories  are  full 
of  spirit,  and  with  the  true  ring  about  them. — N.  T.  Times. 

A  breezy,  pleasing  tale,  told  with  the  vivacity  and  charm  which 
signally  distinguish  Captain  King's  pen. — N.  Y.  Press. 

The  story  throughout  is  one  sure  to  interest  a  wide  circle  of  read 
ers.  Captain  King  has  scored  a  success. — Epoch,  N.  Y. 

All  Captain  King's  war  tales  are  good,  and  the  last,  "  A  War-Time 
Wooing,"  is  the  most  skilfully  written  of  them  all.  .  .  .  The  author's 
war-time  scenes  are  drawn  with  accuracy,  and  minuteness  of  detail 
which  will  delight  soldiers.—^.  T.  Herald. 

The  real  interest  and  value  come  of  its  spirited  and  faithful  de 
scriptions  of  military  character  and  conduct,  which  make  both  bet 
ter  known  and  felt. — Boston  Globe. 

To  be  commended  for  its  freshness  of  design,  its  easy  and  agree 
able  literary  style,  and  its  generally  healthful  tone. — Newark  Daily 
Advertiser. 

The  story  will  be  read  with  interest  by  those  who  like  military 
novels,  for  it  shows  a  familiarity  with  camp  life  and  all  that  apper 
tains  to  perilous  adventures  on  the  field  of  battle. — Saturday  Even 
ing  Gazette,  Boston. 

Captain  King  is  a  delightful  story-teller,  and  this  combination  of 
love  and  war  will  prove  one  of  the  most  attractive  books  of  the  sea 
son. —  Washington  Post. 


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BEN-HUR:  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 

By  LEW.  WALLACE.     New  Edition,     pp.  552.     16mo, 
Cloth,  §1  50. 


Anything  so  startling,  new,  and  distinctive  as  the  leading  feature  of 
this  romance  does  not  often  appear  in  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Some  of  Mr. 
Wallace's  writing  is  remarkable  for  its  pathetic  eloquence.  The  scenes 
described  in  the  New  Testament  are  rewritten  with  the  power  and  skill  of 
an  accomplished  master  of  style. — Ar.  Y.  Times. 

Its  real  basis  is  a  description  of  the  life  of  the  Jews  and  Romans  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  and  this  is  both  forcible  and  brilliant.  .  .  . 
We  are  carried  through  a  surprising  variety  of  scenes ;  we  witness  a  sea- 
fight,  a  chariot-race,  the  internal  economy  of  a  Roman  galley,  domestic  in 
teriors  at  Antioch,  at  Jerusalem,  and  among  the  tribes  of  the  desert ;  pal 
aces,  prisons,  the  haunts  of  dissipated  Roman  youth,  the  houses  of  pious 
families  of  Israel.  There  is  plenty  of  exciting  incident ;  everything  is  ani 
mated,  vivid,  and  glowing. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

From  the  opening  of  the  volume  to  the  very  close  the  reader's  interest 
will  be  kept  at  the  highest  pitch,  and  the  novel  will  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  the  greatest  novels  of  the  day. — Boston  Post. 

It  is  full  of  poetic  beauty,  as  though  born  of  an  Eastern  sage,  and  there 
is  sufficient  of  Oriental  customs,  geography,  nomenclature,  etc.,  to  greatly 
strengthen  the  semblance. — Boston  Commonwealth. 

"Ben-Hur"  is  interesting,  and  its  characterization  is  fine  and  strong. 
Meanwhile  it  evinces  careful  study  of  the  period  in  which  the  scene  is  laid, 
and  will  help  those  who  read  it  with  reasonable  attention  to  realize  the 
nature  and  conditions  of  Hebrew  life  in  Jerusalem  and  Roman  life  at 
Antioch  at  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  advent. — Examiner,  N.  Y. 

It  is  really  Scripture  history  of  Christ's  time  clothed  gracefully  and  deli 
cately  in  the  flowing  and  loose  drapery  of  modern  fiction.  .  .  .  Few  late 
works  of  fiction  excel  it  in  genuine  ability  and  interest. — N.  Y.  Graphic. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  delightful  books.  It  is  as  real  and 
warm  as  life  itself,  and  as  attractive  as  the  grandest  and  most  heroic  chap 
ters  of  history. — Indianapolis  Journal. 

The  book  is  one  of  unquestionable  power,  and  will  be  read  with  un 
wonted  interest  by  many  readers  who  are  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
and  romance. — Boston  Journal. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTPIERS,  NEW  YORK. 

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THE  BOYHOOD  OF  CHRIST. 

By  LEW.  WALLACE,  Author  of  "  Ben-Hur,"  &c.  14  Full- 
page  Engravings  on  Plate  Paper.  4to,  Ornamental 
Leather  Covers,  $3  50.  (In  a  Hox.) 


The  story  is  told  by  an  earnest,  loving  reader  of  the  Gospels,  and 
the  effort  to  present  the  actual  life  of  Christ  in  his  youth  is  rever 
ent,  judicious,  and  full  of  interest. — Christian  Union,  1ST.  Y. 

This  sumptuous  work  is  superlative  in  more  respects  than  one.  .  .  . 
It  is  such  a  bit  of  fine  and  fluent  story-telling  as  we  are  sure  no  one 
could  write  but  the  author  of  "  Ben-Hur."  It  is  the  boy  Christ  who 
figures  in  these  pages,  none  other. — Philadelphia  Press. 

A  most  interesting  and  pleasant  book  for  old  and  young  alike,  and 
will  be  a  permanent  companion  to  "  Ben-Hur." — Lutheran  Observer, 
Philadelphia. 

A  magnificent  book.  .  .  .  The  subject  is  treated  in  that  reverent 
yet  familiar  narrative  style  which  has  made  General  Wallace  so  well 
known  and  liked,  and  the  illustrations  are  worthy  of  the  peculiar 
grandeur  of  the  subject.  The  whole  forms  a  work  of  art  which  is 
unique  even  among  the  many  fine  productions  of  the  modern  press. 
— St.  Louis  Republic. 

The  style  of  the  work  is  simple  and  graceful,  the  spirit  of  it  is 
reverent  and  helpful,  and  it  impresses  forcibly  the  reality  of  the  tie 
of  humanity  between  Jesus  and  ourselves,  and  there  are  many  and 
very  fine  illustrations. — The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

What  history,  art,  and  travel  may  contribute  to  help  clear  and 
vivid  portraiture  and  description  is  familiar  to  the  author,  and  he 
has  all  the  sympathetic  and  tender  imagination  to  give  them  power. 
— Boston  Globe. 

A  real  spirit  of  reverence  pervades  the  narrative,  and  extends  from 
the  narrator  throughout  his  young  audience.  .  .  .The  publication  is 
very  beautiful. — Christian  Advocate,  N.  Y. 


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R.  D.  BLACKMOEE'S  NOVELS. 


Mr.  Blackmore  always  writes  like  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.— Athenceum, 
London. 

His  descriptions  are  wonderfully  vivid  and  natural.  His  pages  are  bright 
ened  everywhere  with  great  humor;  the  quaint,  dry  turns  of  thought  remind 
you  occasionally  of  Fielding — London  Times. 

His  tales,  all  of  them,  are  pre-eminently  meritorious.  They  are  remark 
able  for  their  careful  elaboration,  the  conscientious  finish  of  their  workman 
ship,  their  affluence  of  striking  dramatic  and  narrative  incident,  their  close 
observation  and  general  interpretation  of  nature,  their  profusion  of  pictur 
esque  description,  and  their  quiet  and  sustained  humor.  Besides,  they  are 
pervaded  by  a  bright  and  elastic  atmosphere  which  diffuses  a  cheery  feeling 
of  healthful  and  robust  vigor.  While  they  charm  us  by  their  sprightly  vivac 
ity  and  their  naturalness,  they  never  in  the  slightest  degree  transcend  the 
limits  of  delicacy  or  good  taste.  While  radiating  warmth  and  brightness,  they 
are  as  pure  as  the  new-fallen  snow. . .  .Their  literary  execution  is  admirable, 
and  their  dramatic  power  is  as  exceptional  as  their  moral  purity.— Christian 
Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 

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